The Window
by AliaAtreidesBr
Summary: When Batman faces the fact that something is missing in his life, he turns to Catwoman for comfort. How will that develop? Chapter 17: The word now is revenge... and what does Nightwing has to say? NEW 52 DC UNIVERSE.
1. Chapter 1

Batman hated monitor duty in the Watchtower.

Although, admittedly, he shouldn't say that, at least out loud – he was the one that suggested that system.

The point would be to take advantage of all the many equipments of surveillance and be able to detect an event like the alien invasion that happened five years ago in its early stages. In such case, the Justice League would be able to reunite and plan quicker and more effectively, potentially saving thousands, perhaps hundreds of thousand lives more than they had in that first event. There was no doubt that monitor duty was a necessity.

But it was incredibly boring.

He would go over and over the cameras and sensors around the world and space. Scan again and again the solar system. Watch images and enhance them, send messages and radio signals, write reports. And then, he would do it all over again.

In a lively evening, he would even find excuses to leave the Watchtower and get into action himself, but that was only justify if the situation was dire to the team, or if there was no other Justice League member to deal with the problem. Those were the rules; and if he made exceptions, soon Flash would be escaping monitor duty in its first minutes – it was hard to keep him up there for even an hour…

The bright side was, he could bring work from Gotham to do there, and get ahead in a few things. At least there, in space, there weren't enough distractions, and he could concentrate. Even do some lab work he had been neglecting for a while.

He had been reading police reports for the last twenty minutes, an old habit: sometimes, if he organized and read them all, he would see connections between cases the police often wouldn't. As reports were filed by hundreds every day, and most detectives were always so busy, there weren't many moments for them to share information. And so, Batman would do that. The lack of time usually obligated him to just use a computer program, but he liked to do it himself. He was _way_ better than the computer, so why not take the opportunity? Already he had found several interesting points to show Jim Gordon.

_Beez_.

The teleporter's alarm.

Batman abandoned the reports and searched the monitors, not too worried. Their teleport system had a trigger, and any one that used it should also use an additional three digit code when setting coordinates. Problem was, most of his teammates usually forgot it. Therefore, the alarm would be set, though not as if a stranger had entered the place.

Looking at the monitor, he saw exactly what he expected: it was just Clark arriving. As usual, he forgot the code. Batman reached his hand to press the communicator button, prepared to tease Superman about his mistake and then invite him to join him at monitor duty – he would never confess, but a very welcomed company.

_Beez._

The alarm again.

He saw in the monitor that Wonder Woman had also arrived, just a few seconds after Superman. That picked his curiosity; as far as he knew – and he knew a lot – there weren't any meetings scheduled, and certainly there weren't any serious trouble in Earth at the moment that required both Superman and Wonder Woman's attention. He certainly hadn't called them or asked for them. What was that about, then?

He turned on the microphones in the teleport room.

"… you sure?" Diana was saying.

"I'm sure. Bruce never leaves the monitor room. Besides, we can lock the doors."

"He knows this place better than anyone, Clark. If he wants to go into a room…"

"And why would he?"

Diana laughed. "Why indeed. It's not like he ever sleeps."

"Nope, not Bruce." Superman was smiling. Then, he gently placed a hand on Diana's waist. "Neither do I."

She placed her arms around his neck. "So", she said, then standing on her toes and placing a light kiss on Superman's lips, "about that room…"

"Come with me", Superman said, leading Diana by her hand.

In the monitor room, Batman gasped.

It was true, then, the rumors… Clark and Diana really were…

He watched on the monitors as they found one of the empty sleeping bedrooms. The Watchtower didn't serve as anyone's home of refuge for the moment, and all the living quarters were empty. Batman wasn't surprise to see that Clark had led Diana to the largest bedroom, the one that had that open window to the space. It was a beautiful sight… He had thought about it himself, every once in a while, wondering if he would ever take someone there, to that room, and share the view with her…

The nameless, inexistent _her_…

As predicted, Diana seemed to have liked the view. She approached the window and smiled. Clark joined her. Placed an arm around her, while she rested her head on his shoulder. And then, she turned to face him, and they shared a kiss…

He turned off the monitor.

_Damn it, Clark._ He would have to talk to them. That shouldn't be allowed. That wasn't what the Watchtower was there for. That place had a very specific purpose, and being the refuge for lovers wasn't one of them. What if every hero had a similar idea? Soon it would be Barry, or Hal, bringing his girlfriend or, in Hal's case, _girlfriends_, and the place would be a mess. No, that wasn't the place… not the Watchtower.

He couldn't believe they were doing that, Clark and Diana. Using a place for serious work as a love nest. It was unbelievable. Insulting, even.

Maybe he should check on them. Perhaps they _weren't_ doing that. Maybe they… they…

He left the room and teleported back to the cave.

* * *

Batman finished his work back on the cave. Alfred noticed he was early:

"Master Bruce", the butler said when he found Batman on his chair, legs stretched over the computer bay, "weren't you supposed to be in orbit?"

"Changed shifts", he groaned.

"Glad to see you are in such a cheerful disposition."

He stood up from the chair and put back his cowl. "I'm leaving."

"Shall I call Master Damian…?"

"No", Batman abruptly said. "I have to… take care of things."

"_Things?_"

"Things that… require my attention."

"Ah. Of course. This explanation cleared all my doubts."

He ignored the sarcasm in Alfred's tone, walking to the car and silently driving away. When he was a few miles away from the manor, and knew he wasn't being followed, he turned off the radio and the GPS.

He didn't want to be interrupted.

* * *

He found her in a back alley in a bad part of the East End, most likely coming from a meeting with one of her fences. He knew she had lost her main contact a few months ago, and now was reaching for risky jobs and siding with bad elements. Things were not going well for her, and that was bad timing. He should have known, especially by the way she reacted when she saw him:

"Oh, no, Batman…", she angrily snapped, "get out of my way! I'm not doing anything wrong!"

"Catwoman", he tried to explain. She didn't want to hear anything, though. In a few leaps she was already on the rooftop of the nearest building.

He chased her – as usual. The chase, it was part of the fun. Of their relationship. As a rule, he found it annoying; not that night. That night, he enjoyed the thrill of jumping after her and following her over Gotham, cornering her and trying to grab her, touching her and letting go. She was skilled, she was smart. He would have her in one minute, and then she would escape, usually in an unexpected way.

He didn't give up. She neither.

They were in the cat and mouse game for almost an hour when he got her: taking hold of her ankle before she landed on the roof ahead, both of them tumbling and falling heavily on the roof. He had a moment of chivalry, pulling her on top of him as they hit the cement, most of the impact absorbed by his back. Painful, but he thought it was worth it: she didn't try to escape him again, instead letting herself rest on top of him as they regained their breathes. He was the first to speak:

"Are you okay?"

She nodded. "You?"

"Fine."

They sat on the cold roof.

"What's the matter with you tonight?" She seemed deeply intrigued.

He thought of answering. Prolonging a conversation he didn't even want to have.

And then, he remembered Wonder Woman and Superman; what they had. And what he didn't have.

She certainly wasn't expecting what he did: he almost jumped over her, immediately taking hold of her neck and kissing her violently. He wished that wasn't the case, that he could be gentler and less abrupt, that he wasn't always in such urgency for her. But there was never time; never a good moment.

Never a window and a beautiful view to appreciate.

She didn't seem to mind, though. Or, at least, she didn't show.

Soon she was unzipping her outfit, exposing her exquisite body right there, under the twilight, over the rooftop. That was them: not even a regular room, a bed, a mattress. All they had was his cape, that he quickly placed under them as he found his position on top of her. He barely undressed, merely taking off his belt and allowing her to pull down his pants a few inches. Masks? They would stay on, as usual.

He took off his gloves, feeling her breasts and the curve of her waist, her hips, and then between her legs, finding her ready for him. He kissed her again, then whispering by her ear:

"I missed you."

He missed her; that was all he had ever allowed himself to say to her, perhaps even feel. Yes, he missed that: their clandestine meetings, arranged between fighting crime and saving the world, usually sprinkled with tragedy. Their relationship, that happened under masks and without names – he missed that. And not because it was good: because it was all they had.

"I missed you too", she told him back.

She deserved more, no doubt. He wished he could tell her that, get the courage to tell her she was _better_ than that… but then, he would lose her.

And he couldn't have that.

He entered her. Under him, she gasped in pleasure and surprise. Her naked body shuddering and trembling, the sounds of her low moans filling him with delight. And he moved. Moved inside her, following the rhythm that she gave him, her legs around him, the soft sound of her voice as she let escape a word here and there. Just a few words: they didn't speak. He moved, she moved, he caressed her body, she bit his shoulder, they kissed and kissed, their mouths barely able to be apart.

They didn't stop, they never stopped once they started. He entered her deeper and deeper, she pulled him to her, she allowed a brief shout in a quivering voice as she came. And something inside him melted as he watched her, a lump formed in his throat: her perfect beauty, her youthful abandonment, her authenticity.

He couldn't give her the same.

But he gave her something. He embraced her and followed her, kissing her as he came inside her, his silence disguised by a tender stroke that passed as affection. And no words, no words at all, his eyes avoiding hers as he rested his forehead on her shoulder.

It was no surprise that soon she wanted to put her clothes back on, getting ready as he merely adjusted his cape and belt again. He stood up, watching her slide inside her uniform once again and remove her goggles, not seeming the least embarrassed about taking off his mask in front of him. She knew it: he was well aware of whom she was; she was the one that ignored his identity. Sometimes, he wondered if she even cared.

"Did you use something?" She asked.

He was slightly confused for a moment, trying to make sense of her words.

"Protection." She explained. And as he didn't immediately answered: "No, hm? I didn't think so."

She didn't look too worried, but he asked anyway:

"Is that a problem…? That we didn't…?"

"It's fine", she bluntly said. "Nothing for you to fret about."

He said nothing – it wasn't unusual that things ended like that: both of them unsure of what to do, awkward silences and aggressive exchanges. Because truth was, he had no idea of what to do.

And neither of them knew what would come next.

She was finished with her clothes, back to be Catwoman, burglar-slash-vigilante that now stared at him from ten feet of distance. And he, he had never allowed himself to stop being Batman.

"That's it, then", she declared. He was ashamed to admit, but he usually left to her the responsibility of closing their sexual encounters.

He nodded, already turning his attention to his com-link.

"Hey", she called. He responded merely by slightly raising his glance from the device in his hands. "Look, whatever happened…"

"Nothing happened", he quickly said, his voice hoarse and dry.

She snorted – she didn't believe him. Of course she didn't believe him; what had he done to ever deserve her trust?

"Anyway", she concluded, half-smiling, a hint of sadness in her voice, "if you ever want to _talk_…"

"Yes. Yes, I know." He made an effort to properly look at her. "Thank you."

"You're welcome", she said.

Again he nodded. Turning to the edge of the building, he leaped away into darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

It was Clark that came to him, hovering above Gotham's skyline as Batman contemplated the city below from the top of Wayne Towers' main building.

"Haven't seen a lot of you lately", he said in a not-so-casual tone.

"You saw me yesterday", Batman reminded him. "We had a meeting at the Watchtower."

Superman silently agreed in a head gesture. Still, he lowered himself and approached Batman, floating by his side:

"You were awfully quiet yesterday, it's what I mean. No discussions with Arthur, no scowling Barry, barely groaning in disapproval at my dumb idea about how to deal with Amazo."

"It wasn't that dumb."

Superman chuckled. "Well, regardless. My point is, you've been so… distant the last few days."

"I have a lot in my mind", he simply said, draping his cape around him and turning to look at the other side.

"Yes, I know. I mean, I'm sure you do… but don't you always?"

Batman remained silent for a moment, quietly contemplating the city and lost in deep thoughts. Then, he asked:

"What do you _really_ want, Superman?"

Superman answered with a sigh. "We're just worried, Bruce. That's all."

"And _why_ would you be worried?"

Superman joined him at the edge of the building, seating next to Batman's standing figure.

"You've been working more and more. No time for yourself, unless if it is under this cowl."

"That's not true."

"It is, Bruce." He shrugged. "I've talked to the boys; Dick and Damian told me..."

"You _can't_ do that!" Batman's words were a furious bark. "Don't get them involved with the League's business!"

"It's _not_ League's business! It's _personal_ business! It's us, your family, your friends, worried about you!"

"I'm _fine_", he hissed.

Superman remained silent for a minute. Then:

"And the way you're treating me after you found out about Diana and me…"

"Not this again…" Batman complained.

"Yes, _this_ again. C'mon, Bruce, you're treating us like we've done something wrong…!"

Batman nodded in exasperation. "You don't get it, Clark…! You and Diana, you're the most powerful creatures in this planet..! Together, there's nothing that could stop you from… well, from doing anything!"

"So what? We're not doing anything bad, or wrong! You know that, why…?"

"It's not about doing something _wrong_. It's about doing something you both might think it's right, and how far you would go to reach your goals."

"We would never hurt anyone. Put others in danger."

"Right. Yes, okay, whatever you say. Let's change the subject."

"Besides", Superman proceeded, ignoring Batman's request, "there's always you."

"And now what is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"You said no one could stop us… but that's not true. _You_ could. You could stop us if you had to."

Batman said nothing to that.

"I'm right, Bruce. Am I not?"

"That, Clark", Batman answered gloomy, "remains to be seen."

* * *

As weeks passed, she worried.

She tried to ignore it, at first. That possibility. She lived life as usual, dismissing any thoughts that led to that.

But weeks passed.

One night, as she felt miserably tired and sick, she contemplated herself in the mirror.

"No", she told at her own image, "this can't be happening."

It couldn't. Not to her. Not to _them_.

She could barely envision it, a reality in which things had spin out of control so wildly that… that…

"What have you done, Selina?"

But the mirror had no answer for her. It was just that: her pale, drained face, messy dark hair, unresponsive body. Lots of doubts.

"Do something", she urged from her lethargic self.

She should do something. Perhaps find a drugstore and buy a pregnancy test?

She smirked, alone in the room. The idea of walking into a store and asking for a test filled her with terror. Hell, it would be easier if she just _robbed_ the thing. Left the money on the register and be done with it at once.

"Idiot", she told herself. "You damn fool!"

Fool. She had been the silliest, most foolish individual to ever walk Gotham's rooftops – and that was saying a lot. But, as far as she knew, she was the only one fighting through nausea and agonizing over a late period right now. The rest of them?

On rooftops. Doing their things.

Even _him_.

"Damn it. Damn it, damn it, damn you! Damn _you_!"

To hell with him. _Hell_.

Why did he come to her that night? That particular night, that was supposed to be just another night among many, so uneventful and ordinary… When nothing _special_ was supposed to happen.

_Why?_

Like he had been conjured by some spell, in an insistent disposition, unwilling to give up on her, never stopping chasing her, never falling back. Oh, and she had _tested_ him, in the mood she was, truly running away from his gritty, rough self. Never making it easy for him…

But he had won the game, hadn't he? He won, and he demanded his prize…

And she didn't stop him.

It would be a lie, she privately admitted, to say the thought didn't cross her mind. The idea that she _should_ stop him. That they shouldn't go that far. Not like that. Not in such a… _irresponsible_ way? Careless? Inconsequential?

She felt like a silly teenager all over again. And, God, was she far from being one…

Later, as they were saying their awkward goodbyes, she had been so dismissive about it. _Nothing for you to fret about_, she had told him. Yeah, no worries… just go, go live your hero life, I'll deal with any unexpected consequences…

There she was: dealing with it. Very poorly, by the way.

Still, there were choices to be made. Many choices. None would make her life easier, but standing in front of a mirror watching things happen to her wouldn't help either, right? Because, in all honesty, things were going to happen whether she liked it or not. Wanted or not.

And the things about decisions were, if you let others decide for you, no matter what happens, you'll regret it forever.

* * *

He was doing his daily push-ups in the training room when Damian entered:

"Father", he called, in his childish voice, though in a tone far beyond his years.

"Yes", Bruce acknowledged the boy's presence, however keeping up with his exercises.

"It seems we missed something last night. A robbery." Damian had his tablet in his hands, and was showing one of the headlines in a news feed. "In Gotham's History Museum."

"Hm-hum." He glanced at the headlines in vague interest, never even slowing his rhythm with the push-ups.

"The security in the Museum didn't even notice until morning. No sensors or alarms were set; the display was barely moved. It was almost like a ghost did it – by the way, the option is the most popular one in the comments following the story…"

Bruce smiled, still moving his body up and down, up and down, in a furious, monotonous movement.

"You shouldn't laugh, father." Damian seemed sincerely offended. "You have no idea of what was stolen."

"What?"

"One of our ancestor's relics: Alan Wayne's ring. The one he had made using that rock, an emerald incrusted in a diamond…"

Bruce suddenly halted half way up, staring at Damian in astonishment:

"The Cat's Eye?" He sat on the floor, frowning. "Impossible. I set the security system myself."

"Yeah, think again, father…" He handed Bruce the tablet. "Someone just beat you in your own game, it seems…"

Bruce ignored Damian's sarcastic grim. He was too worried to care:

"_Selina", he silently mused, "why the hell did you do that?"_


	3. Chapter 3

When Batman cut through the alarm system in her safe-house, he probably thought he was catching her off guard – oh, boy, was he wrong in that assumption…

She might seem to be casually hanging out on the bedroom's balcony, but she was well aware of everything that was going on inside the small loft. Even if she had her back turned to the interior of the apartment, she could very well hear his soft steps, and smell the scent of rain mixed with the rubber of his outfit. She knew him; knew he would scan the darkness with his night-vision goggles, and that he had his eyes on her at all times. She knew he would slowly make his way through the shadows, until he reached the glass door that led to the balcony. And then, of course, she knew he would take his time – he always did. He would stay there for a while, maybe a minute or more, watching her in silence. He was so good in this: silent vigils.

In normal circumstances, Catwoman admitted, she liked being watched. She liked to feel his unresponsive eyes on her, knowing that, in fact, he wasn't as emotionless as he tried to look. Knowing that, deep inside, he too had feelings, and he too took pleasure in something like that: simple desire, one of the most primal and wild feelings in the essence of mankind.

Those were not usual circumstances, however.

"Stop that", she said while turning to face him, his dark features almost indiscernible under the moonless night light.

He opened the glass door in a gentle, soundless move.

"I don't want you watching me like that", she snarled. "It's creepy."

He said nothing, and didn't take a single step at her direction. He remained immobile, standing in the deep darkness of the room.

"Oh, I see… you _want _to be creepy. I forgot, you _like _when people think of you as a freaking psycho. Cute."

The venom in her voice seemed to surprise him a bit; there was tension in his jawbone, movement in his concealed hands. Finally, he spoke:

"The ring", he said, in his hoarse, inhuman voice. "You stole a ring from…"

"I know what I did", she cut him mid-sentence. "I don't need you to narrate my own actions to me, thank you."

"Why?" He sounded sincerely intrigued, for once.

She stared at him for a moment. "Because I felt like it, that's why."

"You knew I would find you", he argued. "A Wayne heirloom? You know Bruce Wayne is…"

"Your _sponsor_, yeah. I know." Again she turned to the rainy night, watching the water fall in a light, dancing veil. "Figured you would come for it. Eventually."

"Here I am", he simply stated.

"Yes", she agreed, eyes on the purple clouds in Gotham's sky. "Here you are."

He took a step into the balcony. "Is that why you did it? Because you wanted me to come after you?"

"And if it was?"

"Like I said: here I am."

"Don't you have to arrest me, or something like that?" She faced him once again, a sarcastic smile on her lips.

"Is that what you want, Selina? That I put you behind bars?" Now he was finally entirely at the balcony, his cape moving restlessly around him under the rainy wind. "I thought you were over it, that you didn't steal anymore, that you had… _changed_."

"Change comes in many colors, Batman", she whispered to the wind, eyes on Gotham's skyline again.

"What about your bosses in the Justice League of America? Waller, Trevor… what do they think about you going back to your old ways?"

"Who says they know?" She lifted her goggles to the top of her head, revealing her displeased expression. "Besides, I don't have _bosses_; that's not how it works."

He shook his head in disapproval. "I don't care about JLA business. All I care is that you made a serious mistake, Selina, and I would like to understand why."

"You're very eloquent tonight. Is this all about a silly little ring…?"

"You tell me."

"Well, I'll tell you… it seems you and that Bruce Wayne fellow are really close, hm?"

"As much as we need to be." He approached her, now standing merely inches away.

"Oh. Not like us, I guess. We, we get _too_ close sometimes, right? Closer than we should…"

There were hints of melancholy in her tone, even though she didn't plan or wish it to be that obvious. In silence, she watched as he lightly ran his left hand over her right arm, his touch almost impossible to be felt through the leather and rubber of her outfit and his glove. His hand finally rested on hers, his fingers clasping on hers in a faint grasp.

"We _do_ get too close", he agreed. "And I honestly don't know if we should."

"We won't anymore", she bluntly said.

He let go of her hand, and she took a step back, her body against the cold metal of the balcony's balustrade. She quickly reached for her own belt, taking an object that was concealed under it.

"Here's your friend's ring", she said, showing him Alan Wayne's precious relic.

To her surprise, he didn't immediately take it. Instead, he gravely asked:

"Is that why you stole it? So I would come after you and you could tell me…" He hesitated; then, in a lower tone: "Just for you to tell me you don't want to see me anymore?"

"What do you think?" She said that in little more than a whisper, her words barely audible in the wind that blew and the rain that fell.

"Is this because you joined the JLA? Did Waller make you do this…?"

"Hey!" She discovered, to her own surprise, that his suggestion felt deeply insulting. "No one can _make me_ do something, understand? Not Waller, not Trevor, not even _you_!" She threw the ring at him, watching it bounce on his armor and fall to the floor, Batman making no movement towards it. "_Especially_ you!"

"You didn't have to steal anything to get my attention, you know?"

She gave him a sardonic smile. "That's right. I could have just called you at your house, or met you in a coffee shop."

He said nothing in response. Kneeling, he took the ring and turned to leave.

She too turned from him, again facing the rain and Gotham's night. However, she couldn't refrain herself from one last question:

"Listen", she said, never taking her eyes from the pouring rain or turning to look at him. She could hear him, however, standing by the door and waiting for her to speak. "Do you…" She discovered herself without words for a moment. Taking a deep breath, she found the courage to proceed. "Do you have a family…? I mean, I know I shouldn't ask you this, it's not fair, but… do you?"

"Why are you asking me this?" For once, his voice sounded less grave and hoarse.

"I don't know", she mumbled. "I don't know. It's just that there are all those kids that work with you, and I wondered… are they _your_ kids? Any of them?"

"I can't answer that", he simply stated.

She closed her eyes and took more of the night air in. "Of course you can't."

"But if you want to know if I have someone… if I'm _married_, or committed to another woman… to _any_ woman…"

"I don't wanna know."

She knew he didn't move from where he was, he didn't even breathe; she figured he just stood there, looking at her.

And then he said:

"I'm not. I don't have anyone." He finally took a few steps inside the loft, leaving her behind. "This life… it's not for a family man."

"Oh, yeah", she nodded. "You got that right."

She listened to his shallow sounds, to make sure he was finally gone. Then, she waited for a while longer before going inside her apartment, knowing he wasn't anywhere around her place. Quietly, she sat on her bed, listening to nothing but the sounds of the rain outside.

"What am I gonna do…?" She asked herself, her voice little more than a murmur.

She lay on her bed, losing her goggles and cowl before doing it. Eyes on the ceiling above her, she carefully placed both her hands over her lower belly. She hadn't allowed herself to touch her stomach ever since she had taken the pregnancy home test, three days ago. It had seemed strange, even improper; like she would be surrendering to that reality, that there was something, a _human being_ growing in there.

Now, however, she had finally given in. Unzipping her uniform, she found the softness of her own skin with the tips of her fingers, gently stroking her belly. There were barely any changes in her body so far, but she could recognize the faint signs, including the almost imperceptible growth of her stomach. She would be over eight weeks pregnant now; a brief research on the internet showed her that the tiny fetus inside her would already have a heartbeat.

A _heartbeat_.

A living little thing.

She had also researched abortion clinics in Gotham and outside it. Some place she could go without even given them her real name, where they wouldn't ask questions and could end everything quickly and promptly, no drama, no consequences.

No consequences… was that even possible?

There would always be consequences, she thought. At least for her - because she knew. She knew there was a heartbeat inside her, a child, a little baby that was now growing limbs, forming little hands, and feet, and fingers, and toes. A fetus, but a fetus that had eyes, and moved all by itself, and had no idea…

No idea that he or she might never live at all.

Tears came. Hot and unexpected, flooding her eyes and falling down across her face, warm trails on her skin. Sobs. Her body trembling at an uncontrollable pace.

Hands over her belly.

She didn't really know why.


	4. Chapter 4

He woke up from yet another one of his awful nightmares, only to realize that those weren't nightmares at all.

It was reality.

_Oh, God_, he mumbled in darkness of his bedroom, silk sheets damp with his sweat and blankets scattered all around the floor. Eyes closed again, he took a few deep breaths and rubbed both hands against his face, feeling the cold skin and the roughness of his unshaved chin.

Despite his efforts, almost immediately the involuntary reactions came: clenched jaw and gritting teeth, his muscles tensing, his heart beginning a wild race towards nothing. Pain in his chest, the pressure, air drawn but barely able to fill his lungs. _No!_, he mentally commanded himself, _no, no, no, not this again…_

Not again. Not again.

He sat on his bed and leaned over to reach the drawer at the small bedside table. It was virtually empty, if not for a few flasks of pills. He took one of them and opened it with trembling, anxious hands, dropping two capsules on his palm; he quickly swallowed them, no liquids to help, no time to think. He was in a hurry, he needed the drug to take effect, and he knew it would take a while.

He knew it would take longer than he wished, and be effective for less time than he needed.

Closing the drawer in a brutal move, he straightened himself at the edge of the mattress, and began a meditation exercise. He had been doing it for so long: the ritual that calmed his restless mind, that helped him gain total awareness and control over his body. _Mind over body, mind over body_, he remembered the lesson from his sensei, back in Japan, so many years ago. _If your mind is peaceful, then no matter the situation you're in: you've already won._

He thought he now understood his teacher's words – his mind was _not_ in peace, and he felt utterly lost.

Lost. That was the key word, wasn't it? He had _lost_ him. His son.

Damn nightmares… Always the same, always, always that same night, always the repetitive enact of his own steps during the night Damian died. He had gone over the simulation so many times, gone over every single choice and action, repeating and changing, repeating and changing. _If I hadn't done this? If I had done that instead? If I hadn't stopped… If I had… If I didn't… If… If…_

There were so many possibilities. Only one reality.

His son was dead. Still dead.

Gone.

His heart racing, his chest tight. Pills and drugs. Damian lost. And he was so eager every night, so anxious to go outside and make Gotham _clean_ of every damn criminal, beating every single one of them up with his bare hands. That crazy, dark, awful world outside.

Better that than his cave and all those memories: Damian's spare mask still over the computer dock where he had left it. His dirty boots idly abandoned on the corner of the gym. His tablet over Bruce's desk, the boy's digitals all over the screen.

And the house. Damian's bedroom, his empty bed, his closet still displaying his clothes. The couch where he used to hangout during lazy afternoons. His mp3 player forgot downstairs, next to the book he was reading.

But the worst?

It was the silence.

The lack of sounds. The notable, palpable absence of his son's voice. How he could no longer slightly open the door of the boy's bedroom and hear the soft sound of his occasional snore. And the realization that, in a similar way, he would never again be awaken by his son's call: _father_, he would say, his grave tone in a child's voice, his dark blue eyes framed by his stern frown.

No more. No more…

No more, Bruce would sometimes mumble to himself before sleep finally caught up with him, a rare occurrence indeed. But he would beg to the nothingness around him, to no one in particular: _no more._ No more nightmares, memories, visions. No more.

He just needed to rest. Just for a little while… If he would have to remember his son, he wished it could be not as Robin. Not as his crime fighting companion. Not as the kid-hero.

As his boy. Just a boy. The child he rarely had the chance of being.

Xxx

"Catwoman", Vibe whispered to her, "are you okay?"

They were in A.R.G.U.S.'s briefing room, listening to Colonel Steve Trevor's explanation about their next mission. The man pointed to a virtual blue-print of a nuclear bomb, and told a disturbing story about the thing getting to Washington, D.C. carried by this guy named Bizarro.

Selina wasn't paying much attention, though. She was focused in the highly important task of not throwing up.

"I'm fine", she answered Vibe quite bluntly, unable to disguise her impatience.

"Oh", the young man mumbled. He was a polite, sweet kid, Selina thought, and seemed honestly worried. "It's just that you look… pale."

_Oh, damn…_, she cursed. If Vibe, of all people, could notice that…

She tried to smile, and then leaned on her chair in silence.

The meeting took another fifteen minutes of torture, Stargirl and Green Arrow asking all kinds of silly questions about the mission. Colonel Trevor answered them in unnerving details, then closing the meeting with the happy news that they would be meeting at the hangar in minus forty minutes to try and intercept the bomb over the Atlantic.

_Nice_, Selina thought, following her teammates outside. However, she lingered on the back of the group, waiting for Trevor to catch up on them. As she saw him leaving the room and locking it behind him, files and papers in his hands, she went to him:

"A word, Steve?"

He seemed intrigued, but was very straightforward:

"Is it about the mission? Because there are things I must take care of before leaving, and Waller wants to see me…"

"It is. I mean, no, not _about_ the mission exactly, but…" She looked around and then down, finally back at him. "I want out, Trevor. I can't go in this mission with you."

He stared at her in silence, apparently pondering about something. Then:

"Follow me."

She did, well aware that things might not go as she had planned.

Xxxx

"This is not a high school soccer team, Catwoman. You can't just leave it at your convenience."

It was Amanda Waller – A.R.G.U.S. director and, technically, her boss - speaking, watching Selina in obvious disapproval. Catwoman pretended to be dismissive about the woman's words:

"Well, I don't remember signing anything that obligated me to stay, Waller."

"It's a lot more serious than that, Selina." Colonel Trevor was next to her, arms crossed, an intrigued look in his features. "You are a criminal. We could take you into custody right now, if we had to. And if taken to court, you would easily get at least a hundred years in Blackgate."

Selina chuckled. "Right. Send me to prison? Let's do it. I'll meet you for a coffee the next day to tell you how it went."

Waller said nothing to that, her gaze denouncing she was at least intrigued about Catwoman's decision. Steve, on the other hand, seemed slightly offended:

"I honestly don't understand. We had a deal, and we didn't even deliver _our_ part of the bargain yet…"

"It's alright. I won't hold it against you."

"C'mon, Selina… what's going on? This is not… not _right_! You were one of the most engaged members of this team, you were truly invested in the JLA…!"

"And now I'm bored!" She suddenly cut him mid-sentence.

Trevor was out of words, but Waller didn't seem impressed by Selina's rampant.

"_Bored_, is it?" Amanda mused. She then turned to Trevor. "Steve, could you please let me talk to Catwoman?"

He looked confused for a moment:

"You want me to leave…?"

"Please, Steve", she insisted, albeit giving him no other explanations.

Colonel Trevor didn't hide his resentment, but complied: slowly, he walked out of the room.

When he was finally gone, Waller turned to Catwoman, a straightforward tone in her question:

"How far along are you?"

Selina felt her heart skip a beat, although she was able to keep her shock from showing in her features. Trying to sound as unfazed as possible, she answered Waller displaying a cynic smirk:

"Oh, Amanda… you shouldn't have asked Steve to leave. Not if you were just going to make wild assumptions like that."

"Cut the crap, Selina." Waller now allowed her lack of patience to show in her voice. "Don't waste my time."

"I'm not, really. I don't know…"

"Twelve weeks? Thirteen? It must be."

Catwoman held her breath in expectation, noticing Waller's scrutinizing gaze examining her carefully.

"It's already showing in your body", she stated. "Hips, waist, stomach… even your face."

"I gained a few pounds", reasoned Catwoman.

"You might have", Amanda agreed. "Hopefully. It could be a sign the baby is developing okay."

Selina took a deep breath, lips tightly pressed together, arms crossed over her chest as she suddenly felt very vulnerable and exposed.

"Let me guess", Waller proceeded. "You haven't looked for adequate medical care, or done any exams…"

"I didn't." She turned her back to Waller, words barely making out of her constrict throat. "I won't need it."

There was a moment of silence as Amanda seemed to be letting this information sink in. She spoke after a minute:

"Are you saying you're not planning to go through with this pregnancy?"

"I'm saying… I'm saying I need some time out, Waller. I need to think."

"You do that", she agreed. "Think long and careful about it."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Waller didn't immediately speak, a meditative expression in her eyes. When she finally answered Catwoman, her tone denounced there was a long line of thought that had lead to it:

"Who's the father of this child?"

Selina nodded in exasperation. "I can't believe you're asking me that…"

"It's the most obvious question there is, giving the situation", Waller shrugged. "Isn't it?"

"Well, it's not of your damn business!"

"I can make it my business, Catwoman." She rose from her chair, approaching Selina. "We can help you, here in A.R.G.U.S…. we could help you with this child. Help raise him, give you all the support you need to be a good mother…"

"Since when does the JLA have an in-office daycare, Waller?"

"This is serious, Catwoman. You wouldn't have to leave the team, or fear retaliations against your child. He or she would be under protection, safe."

"And under constant surveillance, you mean?"

Amanda's glance was cold.

"Be realistic, Catwoman. You can't do this alone."

"I never asked your opinion, Amanda."

"Oh, I know. You tried to _hide_ it from us. Like we wouldn't eventually find out."

"Maybe I don't care what you know or don't…"

"You're not that stupid." Now Waller stood next to Selina, studying her closely. "In fact, you're not stupid at all… so, what _are_ you planning, Catwoman? Could be that the father of your child is someone… powerful?"

Selina smiled. "Right. I might not know much, Waller, but I know this: that you would love to have a child under your care that could give you advantage over someone… maybe a powerful someone."

It was Waller's turn to smile.

"So this _is_ Batman's child?"

"No", Catwoman coldly answered. "It's _my_ child. You won't have it."

She walked to the door, ready to leave the room.

"Catwoman", Amanda called, "wait."

"There's nothing you could say that could change my mind right now, Waller."

"He doesn't care, you know?" She spoke softly now, her voice a hoarse whisper. "He's not going to help you through this. He only cares about that mission of his, and he would sacrifice anything for it… even his own child."

Selina felt tears burning her eyes, trying to force their way out.

"Goodbye, Waller", she said, closing the door behind her.

Xxxx

It wasn't until she had changed into regular clothes and was about to leave A.R.G.U.S.'s facilities that Steve finally caught up with her.

"Selina."

She was walking towards the helicopter that would leave her in Gotham, a small gym bag in her left hand containing all her personal items that had been kept in the base for the last few months. She didn't stop as Colonel Trevor called her name, simply adjusting her sunglasses and quickening her steps.

"Hey, _Selina_!"

He ran the last few feet until he was by her side.

"Where' you going?"

She sighed loudly and abruptly stopped, turning to face him.

"Don't you have a bomb to stop?"

He shrugged in pretense indifference. "I have my best people working on it."

Selina smiled:

"Not the best, but close enough."

He stared at her, his eyes searching for her concealed gaze. "Waller told me you're quitting."

"The decision has been made, Steven."

"Selina." His expression changed: it was now gentler, kind, even sympathetic. "She told me _why_."

"Oh." Her smile melted.

Unexpectedly, he took her hand – a simple, friendly gesture, totally uncharacteristic of what she had seen of him so far.

"If there's anything you need, Selina…"

"Did Waller put you up…"

"No", he immediately and vehemently denied - and she believed him. "I speak for myself here, not A.R.G.U.S.; if there's anything I can help you with, don't hesitate to ask."

Withdrawing her hand from his grasp to place them both under her armpits, embracing herself against the cold wind, she shook her head.

"If you ever find a way to make time run backwards… yeah, that's what I wished."

Steve allowed himself a brief, choked laugh. "Don't we all?"

She didn't seem to find anything funny in the situation. Her face showed nothing but profound sadness. He bit his lower lip before finally asking:

"Are you really not going to have this child?"

"I don't know", she spoke softly. "I guess it's the most rational, smart thing someone in my situation could do."

He considered that answer for a moment, battling thoughts as he pondered her words. Finally, he just nodded and smiled joylessly:

"Well, if you need anything afterwards… you have my number."

She silently agreed, accepting then a brief hug. Without a word, Colonel Trevor took her small bag, and carried it to the helicopter for her. He helped her up and waved goodbye:

"You'll always have a place in the JLA, Selina."

"Thank you, Colonel." She waved back at him.

But when the chopper's door was closed and she lost him from sight, she wondered if that hadn't been the last she had ever heard of the notorious Steve Trevor.


	5. Chapter 5

She didn't think much about it: one day, she called an obstetrics clinic downtown. She was surprised to find out they could arrange the schedule to get the doctor to see her that same afternoon. _Okay_, she just said; and the appointment was settled.

After that, hours flew by her. Anxiety took her. And she left home two whole hours too early.

At the clinic, she filled papers and formularies, and paid in cash. The receptionist was kind and patient, as was the nurse that took her to change her clothes.

The doctor was very direct and slightly short in his answers. He disapproved the fact that Selina hadn't done any exams or been to an obstetrician before. Bluntly, he asked:

"Are you considering an abortion?"

"I don't know", was her answer, and he took it in silence, though displaying obvious censure in his middle aged features.

"You need an ultrasound", he announced while taking notes. "I'll have the technician prepare…"

"Is it necessary? _Really_ necessary? Like I said, I'm not sure if I'm going to go through with the pregnancy, and I would rather…"

"Not see it?" The doctor spoke in a trivial manner.

"Yeah."

"You need the exam", he firmly stated, already leaving the room.

She was left alone in the small exam room, looking at white walls and pondering about her decision.

And about her desire.

Xxxx

He had been working in the cave for too long, sat on his chair for at least four hours straight. Sleep deprived, tired, a neglected wound in his left shoulder that still bled. He had had an unfortunate encounter with Killer Croc the evening before, and thought he had handled it well, all things considered: he was alive and in one piece, Croc had been detained. That counted as a big success.

It wasn't enough to lighten up his mood, of course.

_I hate Killer Croc_, he remembered Damian telling him. _He has the worst smell among all your enemies, father._

He had smiled at the boy's remark, much to Damian's dismay: he never intended to be funny. _I'm not one of your cute sidekicks, father_, he would constantly say. And he was right: Damian was no simple sidekick, no mere child in a colorful costume. He was a brilliant person and a remarkable fighter, a prodigy.

A son that would make any father proud.

Batman had been lost in those reminiscences when he caught something strange in one of the cave scans: a reading that showed traces of radiation. It took him only two seconds to finally understand it.

"Show yourself, J'onn", he demanded, just as he rose from his chair. "I know you're here."

Almost immediately, a large form began to materialize a few feet from him.

"Hello, Batman."

The Martian Manhunter, he was called. A dangerous, powerful alien being that had been living on Earth and, for a time, had joined the Justice League. Now, however, he was a member of the JLA, the government team that, Batman had no doubt, was formed to oppose the League if that was ever needed or desired by the powerful people in D.C..

"What the hell are you doing here?" Batman didn't mind the hostility that came out so abruptly in his tone.

J'onn didn't express any resentment or appeared to be intimidated by Batman's display of anger.

"I need to speak to you."

"I could have deduced that", Batman growled.

"But you don't know why I'm here." The Martian declared with conviction.

"Stop probing around my mind", he snarled.

J'onn's face was a strange, inexpressive mask, red eyes in dark-green features. It was always hard to read what was going through that alien mind.

"Believe it or not, I'm here to help you."

Batman said nothing; he sat back on his chair and coldly stared at the Martian, waiting for him to proceed.

"I know you have suffered a great, irremediable lost. Your son. A child." As Batman tensed his jaw and seemed ready to lash out again, J'onn raised a hand. "Please. I'm not here to discuss this sad fact, or even try to console you. I understand that no words could mend what was broken."

"Then _why_ are you here?"

"Because I think it's unfair to you", he carefully spoke, "to not tell you the truth."

"About what?" He seemed sincerely intrigued.

"About your unborn child. And how it may never actually be born into this world."

Xxxx

Lying on her bed, Selina stared at the strange picture in her hands. Shades of grey and indistinct forms, a blurred image that was promised to her to be her child.

Again she thought about that afternoon: how scared she had been when the technician finally touched her belly with that apparatus, indistinguishable spots appearing in the monitor next to her. The unemotional, almost robotic voice of the woman as she described what could be seen on the screen:

"Here is the fetus", she declared. "Its feet, actually."

"_Feet?_", Selina had thought, trying to make sense of what she was watching. It was hard, but once the woman had pointed it out in the monitor, she had been able to discern it: tiny feet, both together, as the baby seemed to have its legs crossed. Toes. There were toes, perfect and clear, little toes she immediately and unconsciously began to count: one, two, three… ten. Two feet, ten toes.

And then, legs. Thin, long legs, small knees bent and then stretching. It _moved_.

"Oh, my God", she had whispered.

The exam went on, showing her the small body, a curved and beautifully perfect little spine. Ribs. A beating heart.

Hands and long little fingers, closed in a fist and then opening as she attentively watched her baby on screen. Hands over that little face, a thumb that seemed to be vigorously sucked by that little thing, a small, unfinished project of a person, that already was capable of sucking its own thumb. In that mouth, that had lips and moved nervously. A face, with indistinct but existent features, eyes and nose, a restless little creature that turned and kicked inside her.

"Do you want to know if it's a boy or a girl?"

"No", she answered, now aware that tears blurred her vision. "I don't."

At the end of everything, the woman asked if she wanted her to print a picture. To her own surprise, Selina said she did.

That picture right there. Showing what was supposed to be just a fetus, but looked like a perfect little baby, sucking its thumb.

"Is that him?"

She almost fell from the bed at the question, startled by the sudden voice in the darkness. This time, he had actually surprised her.

He stood on the passage of the bedroom's open door, standing absolutely immobile. His figure was tall and impressive, a striking presence. How he had managed to get there unnoticed puzzled Selina – she didn't remember the last time he had gotten the better over her.

Then again, maybe before he wasn't really trying.

"Is it?" He didn't move from where he was, but insisted in the question. "The picture… it's our child, isn't it?"

He couldn't have possibly seen what was displayed in that photograph: she was holding it with its back turned to the door. Which meant that he already _knew_ it.

"Who told you?" She asked, her voice almost as hoarse and tired as his.

"Does it matter?" He seemed to relax a bit, his shoulders slightly less tense.

"It matters to _me_. I don't want this story to be of public knowledge, as you can figure out."

"It's not. I promise."

She sat on the edge of the bed, the picture safely hidden between her hands. They said nothing for a while; a couple minutes of soundless stillness or even more, she wasn't sure. Until he finally asked, the question that had been hanging there in the silence:

"Did you keep it?"

Hearing the words from him, she realize she couldn't hold back anymore: the tears finally ran free from her eyes, running down her cheeks and chin, falling in large drops on her lap.

From his dark spot by the door, he allowed a trembling breath escape through his lips. "I'm so sorry", he muttered. "I'm sorry…"

"No", she said, her voice a choked, muffled sound. "No, I didn't do it… I didn't… I _couldn't_…"

"I…" He hesitated. "I don't understand… You… kept it? Are you still…?"

She was sobbing hard now, unable to speak: she just nodded, moving her head up and down.

A mute 'yes'.

No sounds came from him, not a single move, not a sign. He was a dark statue over a darker background, even his breathing sounds inaudible. She turned to look at him, that shadow, the man that was more than just that, that mysterious creature that was supposed to father her child – how could that be possible?

"I can't", she finally managed to say, her words barely understandable among her sobs and sniffles. "I don't think I can do it. I honestly think I shouldn't go through with this pregnancy, but… but… I just _can't_."

It was a confession of sorts, one she pondered if should have been done at his presence, of all people. She didn't expect to see him anytime soon, if ever again, and never imagined he would end up at her bedroom, precisely on the very night she had realized that their child should be given a chance. A chance to know this crazy world they lived in, and try his or her luck as Catwoman's son or daughter.

And _Batman's_ son or daughter.

He entered the room, soft steps and in a slow march, getting close enough to kneel next to her and placed a gentle hand over her clasped fingers, the ultrasound picture still between them.

"You're not alone", he whispered.

"I have _zero_ idea of what to do. Or how we should play this."

"It's a child", he reasoned. "Not something to be played."

She chuckled, laugh and tears mixed on her face. "God. I don't even know you. Who you are. What kind of life you have when you're not under this creepy cowl."

"Yes", he agreed. "We should remedy that."

At the end of the phrase he was already with his hands on his mask, carefully removing it. Under the dim lights of the bedroom he revealed himself to her, his unmasked features a sight that left her speechless. His blue eyes and chiseled features, dark hair, straight nose and fine drawn eyebrows. A handsome man, like she had guessed he would be, although younger than she would assume. Her greatest surprise, however, was that he wasn't just _any_ man.

"I'm Bruce Wayne", he was saying, though she had already realized that. "When I'm not Batman, I'm managing Wayne Enterprises and trying to make a difference in the world, a lot like I do every night… though with different challenges."

She shook her head. "I… this… This is a _lot_ of information for me to process…"

"I know. I know it probably seems too much…"

"It is. It's too much, and I'm not sure I can… _deal_ with all this right now…"

Again he grasped her hands, and his eyes – it was so strange, to be able to see his eyes – were pleading pools, following the tone that was set in his words:

"All I want is for you to know that I'm here. For you. For this baby." He pressed his lips together, apparently considering his next words with great care. As he spoke, he tried to do it cautiously. "This child… it's most welcomed. I have no way of expressing to you how much it means to me… that it happened _now_. Now, of all times."

She smiled. And though she felt tired, sick, insecure, it was finally a smile that showed a hint of sincere joy. From her hands to his, she passed the picture.

"If that's how you feel", she said softly, "then perhaps you should keep this."

He took it in his hands and gazed down, frowning as he examined the image.

"Is he sucking his thumb?"

She chuckled. "Yeah… I guess he is."

Never taking his eyes from the picture, he rose from the floor to join Selina on the bed, sitting next to her. "This ultrasound you took… everything is fine? With the baby?"

"Yes. Fine, everything is… perfect."

"In the future", he vaguely said, "if you could… if you… _want_… I would like very much to go with you."

"Okay", she agreed. "I'll let you know. When there's an appointment, I mean."She pondered for a moment, and then spoke again. "Although… should we do that? I mean, I think it would be great to have company, but…"

"But…?"

She answered in a whisper:

"You're Bruce Wayne. _The_ Bruce Wayne."

He considered that in silence. And then:

"Maybe I could make a few arrangements. We could go to a more _discreet_ place. If it's okay with you, that is."

Selina thought about the cold doctor, the unresponsive technician. Then, she shrugged:

"Yeah, sure. We could do that."

He was again looking at the picture in his hands:

"Can I keep this, then? You don't mind?"

"I don't mind", she reassured him.

"Thank you", he said, smiling briefly. A _smile_. That was certainly an unusual sight when dealing with Batman, she thought. Although, of course, she wasn't dealing with Batman, exactly; that was Bruce Wayne. She had to get used to think of him as that _man_, not the masked hero. That child growing inside her, if all went okay, would be Bruce's child. Not Batman's.

"Maybe you can tell me now", she kindly asked.

"About what?"

She stared at him intensely. "About your kid. You do have a kid, don't you? I think I read something about it…" She smirked. "It makes you the veteran between us, because I don't have the slightest…"

"Okay", he interrupted her. "Okay. I'll tell you. I'll tell you all about my son."

And he did. Through the entire night, until the sun finally bathed the bedroom in gold. Damian's story, and his own tortuous path into fatherhood.


	6. Chapter 6

He was at a Justice League meeting when Alfred called him. Ordinarily, he wouldn't answer; this time, however, he quickly rose from his chair and left the room, talking even before the door closed behind him:

"Yes, Alfred."

"Sir." The butler's tone was grave, Alfred's only sign of apprehension. "Miss Kyle called."

"And…?"

"She asked me to tell you she's going to the hospital. And to tell you to meet her there when you are avaible."

"I'm going right now. I'm at the Wachtower, so I'll just teleport…"

"Sir?"

"Yes, Alfred."

"Remember to _change_, sir. Your clothes…"

"Oh." He had forgotten about that. "Of course, Alfred."

"Then I'll meet you at the hospital in half an hour, sir. Unlike you, I'll have to drive myself there."

"See you there", he said, already disconnecting the call.

When he returned to the meeting room, he was greeted with silence and anxious expressions. He didn't say anything either; walking back to his place around the table, he simply collected a few items he had left there.

"I have to leave", he announced.

There were intrigued glances exchanged around the table, but no words. Diana was the only one that risked a question:

"Is everything alright, Bruce?"

"Sure", was his brief answer. He was already walking out of the room when he suddenly turned to speak one last thing:

"Actually… I might not be available for the next few days. There's something that… requires my attention."

The door closed behind him before any questions could be made.

Flash was the first to speak, moving in obvious discomfort on his chair:

"I hate when he says that", he declared. "I mean… what's so important that needs Batman's full time attention? Get's me thinking it's the end of the world."

Superman, who had been quietly observing the situation, had soothing words:

"Relax, Barry. I'm sure it's nothing bad."

Cyborg agreed.

"If it was the end of the world, trust me… we would know." He turned his attention back to the computer. "Can we resume the meeting? I still have a few topics to discuss…"

"Sure, Victor", Aquaman nodded. "Go on."

As Cyborg prepared his presentation, Superman rose from his chair.

"Excuse me", he apologized. "I'll be back in a moment."

"Oh, great…" Flash complained. "Now we've lost Batman _and_ Superman…"

Wonder Woman sighed:

"You're still not going anywhere until Victor is finished."

"Let me just register, that's totally unfair. Double standards…"

As Barry protested and Diana scowled him, Superman left the room. He found Batman already on the teleporting platform, ready to leave.

"Bruce", he called.

"What is it, Clark?" He sounded impatient. "I can't talk right now."

"It's okay", Superman said, "I just wanted to wish you good luck."

Batman silently watched Superman for a moment; when he spoke, he did it in genuine gratitude.

"Thanks, Clark."

"No problem." He waved towards the machine. "Now, c'mon, go! Don't waste any more time, Selina needs you…!"

And as Superman observed Batman dematerialize in front of him, he couldn't help but think that his friend was about to experience something that was so special and wonderful – and he wondered if he would have the chance of going through the same one day.

Bruce was very lucky; he just hoped his friend could see that.

**Xxxxxxxxxxx**

Colonel Steve Trevor was just coming out of the shower when his cell phone rang in urgency: it was A.R.G.U.S.'s ringtone. He placed a towel around his hips and ran to answer it.

"Trevor speaking."

"Colonel?"

He recognized the voice immediately – one of his agents based in Gotham City. This could only be about one thing:

"News?"

"Yes, sir. It's happening, sir."

"Right now?"

"As we speak, sir. Gotham General. She just admitted herself."

"Alone?"

"She arrived alone." There was a pause. "But he got in a few minutes later. In his civilian identity."

"Okay", Trevor answered, nodding while walking around his living room dressed only in a towel.

"Shall we warn Director Waller…?"

He pondered over that as he realized his rug was now wet.

"Not right now, agent. She probably already knows, anyway, and if she doesn't… let's just leave it as it is."

"Yes, sir."

"Keep me informed, will you?"

"Of course, sir."

"Goodbye."

He sat on his couch and stared at his wall, thinking that, because of a simple child, much was about to change.

**Xxxxxxxxxxx**

"Ugh… Damn it!"

It was Selina complaining from the bed, attached to a fetal heartbeat monitor, hands closed in tight fists as she grabbed the sheets under her.

"Another one?" Bruce was next to her, watching the machine that measured the frequency and intensity of the contractions.

She was too busy trying to handle the pain to answer him.

"Here", he said, rubbing her lower back. "It's okay, the worst part is almost over…"

"_Everything_ is the worst part", she groaned through clenched teeth.

He ignored her sour comment, still massaging her back. "Almost over… almost."

Eyes closed, Selina tried to keep breathing, doing her best to avoid paying attention to all those awful sounds from the machines. Still, as the contraction's pain got more manageable, she immediately turned to Bruce:

"The heartbeat… how was the baby's heartbeat?"

He too had his eyes on the monitors, an apprehensive expression in his tired face. "It dropped a bit", he commented, obviously trying to sound less worried than he actually was.

Selina said nothing; she was too exhausted to do anything other than be quietly concerned. She had been in active labor for full fourteen hours now, enduring pain and discomfort, but the less few were the worst so far. As contractions got more intense and lasted longer, the baby's heartbeat kept dropping to alarming rates, attracting waves of nervous nurses to their bedroom.

Selina's doctor - Wayne's family long time friend, Leslie Thompkins – had tried to ease their concerns, telling them the baby would be carefully monitored and, if needed, they would go with an emergency c-section. _"I can take this baby out in minutes"_, she assured them. Still, as much as Selina trusted Dr. Thompkins, she couldn't help but constantly nurture tragic ideas in her mind, the main one being _"what if something happens to this child?"_.

"I'm feeling sick", Selina complained.

"Leslie said this could happen", Bruce commented, approaching the bed and gently caressing Selina's forehead. "Can I get you something..? Ice, maybe?"

She shook her head in vehement denial, already groaning from the pain of yet another strong contraction. Bruce took her hand, nails burying in his flesh, fingers tightly pressed around his, to the point he had to admit that it was hurting him. He barely moved, nevertheless, knowing too well that there was little more he could do to help her than simply hold her hand. Of the many forms of pain he knew, none was quite like the experience of labor, he admitted; he wasn't enough of a fool to try telling Selina how to handle that.

His attention was deviated from Selina when the fetal monitor started his unpleasant beeps once again. Bruce immediately turned to look at it, his hand still holding Selina's, who was now mumbling through the pain:

"Oh, God… Bruce…" She was panting and sweating, her face suddenly so pale that he suddenly feared she was going to faint. "What…? What's… going on…?"

The baby's heartbeat was too low, really slow, and wasn't going up again, that's what – he couldn't scare her even more, though.

"It's going to be fine", he said, already pressing the emergency button over the bed. His own legs were heavy and trembling, his free hand shaking as he persistently pushed the button.

He probably didn't have to – Leslie Thompkins was already entering the room, going directly to Selina.

"What's wrong…?" The contraction seemed to have eased, and now Selina stared wide eyed at the doctor, anxiously waiting for answers.

But Dr. Thompkins was looking at the printed charts that were coming out of the fetal monitor, seconds later raising her eyes from the papers and austerely staring at Bruce and Selina.

"It seems the baby is going into distress", she solemnly declared. And even though the news were a shock, she didn't wait for them to react or ask questions, quickly adding :

"We need to take the baby out. There's no safe way of knowing if he will be fine if we wait more. I say we go through with the c-section." She looked from Bruce to Selina, urging them to answer her. "Agreed?"

He could feel Selina's hand shaking in his, her palm and fingers so cold. Still, her voice was steady and secure when she spoke:

"Sure. Let's do this, as fast as you can."

"The nurse will prepare you", Leslie said, already on her way out. "See you guys in a few minutes."

And even though she left the room showing them her gentle smile, Bruce felt his hear sink.

"It's gonna be okay, right?"

That was Selina talking, anxiously staring at him while sat on the bed.

"Yes, of course", he reassured her. "Leslie knows what's she's doing, everything is going to be fine."

"The baby…"

"The baby will be fine." He sat on the bed next to her, a hand over her belly. "I promise."

One of the nurses came to take Selina.

"C'mon, dear", she said, "let's have a baby, shall we?"

Bruce watched as Selina was moved from one bed to the other, another contraction making her howl in agony just as they took her. "Don't worry", one of the nurses told him, "we'll take good care of them."

"Yes", he whispered to the solitude of the room, "please, do."

**Xxxxxxxxxxx**

When he saw Selina again, she was already lying on the operation table, lights over her, sheets blocking her sight from seeing her own lower body.

"Hello, Bruce", Leslie greeted him, unrecognizable in her scrubs and surgical mask. "Ready to meet your new son or daughter?"

He smiled, even though he was also wearing a mask. It was so strange, he thought, that he felt uncomfortable using a simple surgical mask when he actually spent most of his life under a heavier, darker cowl.

"Sit here", a nurse pointed to a chair next to Selina.

"Hey", she said once he was by her side. He was surprised to see she was handling the situation in unexpected calm. Still, he was concerned about her paleness and how cold her hand remained when he gently touched it.

"Are you alright?" He had approached his face to hers, whispering close to her ear as he caressed her cheek lightly with his thumb.

"I think so", she said softly. "But I was never in real danger, anyway."

She was right, of course.

"The baby is going to be fine."

Just a few feet ahead, partially covered by the blanket that was blocking their vision, Dr. Thompkins was talking:

"I'm almost there, Selina… You might feel some pressure…"

She closed her eyes, taking a few deep breaths as her body was shaken as the doctors reached for the baby and pulled it out.

"I can see it, guys…" Leslie spoke tenderly, now more like a friend than the surgeon. She even commented, in a cheerful tone: "Oh, it's a big baby… look at that!"

Bruce felt like his heart held perfectly still in the coldness and brightness of that room, a moment of solemn silence as the doctor accomplished that final effort of taking the child from inside its mother at last.

"Oh, congratulations, guys…!" She lifted the little creature over the blankets for them to look at it. "It's a boy!"

"Oh, my God…" Selina gasped, unable to say more as tears suddenly arose.

But Bruce remained in apprehensive silence, realizing the baby, still in Leslie's hands, was not moving or crying. A purple, immobile little thing, his eyes closed, his arms and legs unnaturally limp – he looked more like a doll than a living thing.

"He's not crying", Selina mumbled, the knowledge finally reaching her too. "Why is he not crying…?"

But doctors were already taking him to the small bed under the warm lights that was in a corner of the room, away from their eyes. Bruce couldn't wait, of course; without letting go of Selina's hand, he rose from his seat and followed his son in attentive eyes, watching in nervous silence as a tiny oxygen balloon was placed over his little face, and doctors massaged his chest.

He was probably transpiring his obvious concern, since Selina was now violently clutching his hand, insistently asking:

"Bruce? Is he okay? What's going on…? Why is he not crying..?"

He didn't answer her, unable to tell her their son actually _wasn't_ alright. In that very second, as air was forcibly pushed inside his son's little lungs and doctors tried to stimulate his tired little heart, he realized how terrifying that was to him: the idea of telling her that their baby boy didn't make it.

Fortunately, Leslie was there to help:

"He's having some trouble to make the transition, Selina", was how she put it. "The doctors are with him."

So was Bruce, his gaze fixed on the small body that refused to show signs of life. _No, no, no_, he was repeating in his mind, unable to breathe or move, his knees trembling under him, his stomach revolving at the thought… at the thought that his son…

And then, a sound.

It began as a faint grumble, low and muffled, and with it, a movement. His legs: a twitch, a subtle kick, and then he was vigorously moving them, his arms stretching up, little, tiny fingers discernable as he opened and closed his delicate hands. His gained color, the dark purple replaced by a reddish tone in his grumpy, angry face.

He cried. Furious at the hands that grabbed him, fighting them as he yelled louder and louder, his little body examined and moved, much to the little creature's dismay. He trembled, and cried, and that sound filled Bruce with pure joy and relief, his own massive body finally relaxing as he allowed his shoulders to drop and permitted himself to breathe again.

He lowered his gaze to look at Selina, finding her silently sobbing. Obviously exhausted, clearly relieved, unable to find words. She tried to cover her face with her own hands, but he didn't let her: eyes on eyes, and he kissed her forehead heartily, masks gone and a clumsy embrace that sheltered her cry against his neck and shoulder. If he could, there was much he would like to say: about how brave she had been through it all, or tell her how beautiful she now looked. Tell her about how much fear he had felt, so much fear, so scared that he thought he wouldn't be able to ever forget it… but now he had. As he heard their child crying, and how grateful he felt for that. For him. For _her_, that had gone through so much to bring that child there, to make their son happen, and to allow him to be a part of that. He wished he could tell her how he felt: like she was now the most important person in his life, and he believed, truly believed, that this wasn't about to change any time soon.

But he said nothing. He clutched her closer to him, and hoped that, somehow, she would know it.


	7. Chapter 7

The baby had to be kept for two days in an incubator at the NICU – just a precaution, doctors had told them, to be sure he was breathing steadily and his heart was fine.

As Selina slept after surgery, unable to leave the bed, Bruce spend the night in the NICU, gently caressing his son's soft skin and tiny hands, examining him in details and watching him sleep. A perfect little being, perfect in every sense of the word, perfect in every single way. He would be lost in that small face, learning about his features and searching for the similarities, recognizing Selina here, or himself there. Details he would never think about: eyelashes, earlobes, nails. They now meant something, something he had in common with his son, something the boy had inherited directly from him. Connections, his connection with that baby, and with Selina – thanks to his son, he would always remember her, always _see_ her in their child.

_Their_ child: it was a powerful thing to share – a child.

He thought a lot about Damian, and about his new baby boy. He didn't have the chance of watching Damian as an infant, or as a small child. In fact, he had no idea how the boy had been brought to the world, and had only but a few clues about how he had been raised from babyhood to the child he was when Bruce finally met him. During the few years he had had with Damian, he had often wondered how his presence in the boy's life, if he had been there since the beginning, could have affected Damian, perhaps helped him grow not as angry, violent, resentful. It had taken so much time, so much effort for him to build a relationship with his son.

It had even been hard to _love_ him, at first.

And Bruce would never forgive himself for that.

Especially now; he had been torn between joy and guilt – joy for his baby son, guilt for realizing that Damian was gone, and there was no way for him to make things right for his older boy. Guilt for knowing that he had, for a long time, struggled to accept his role as a father in Damian's life, when it all came so easily now.

Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian… He had had many chances of learning about fatherhood, ever since the day a young circus acrobat entered his house to be under his guardianship. How many mistakes had he made? How many times had he said things that a parent should never say? And how many times had he told himself that he _wasn't_ the father of those boys, that he shouldn't try to replace them, that it was _wrong_ of him to place himself as their father?

The truth was, he wasn't ready then. Not at least until Damian, when he had to make peace with the fact that he _had_ to be a parent for that child. He had to, even though it all started for the wrong reason; even though Damian was used as a weapon, even though Damian's mother, Talia, had made sure their son wasn't a child at all.

And if he was completely honest to himself, the truth was that Dick had been the real hero then. In Bruce's absence, it was Dick that had stepped up. He had made Damian not only a great Robin – he had turned Damian into a Wayne. After that, when he returned to his life as both Batman and Bruce, things were already going well. Damian had adjusted to a more regular – less strange? – life, away from the League of Assassins.

Now, fate had given another chance. Right there, a brand new life, another little boy. A baby: perhaps the most fragile thing in the world, that required constant care and love, and had no interest in Batman, villains, aliens, violence, death. A son for him to, hopefully, see growing from an infant into a man.

And he would do all in his power to assure that.

**Xxxxxxxxxxx**

Selina finally went to see the baby in the morning.

"Hey, you", she said to the sleeping infant that was placed in her arms. He was doing so well that she was allowed to hold him, something Bruce himself had not done yet. She kissed the child's chubby cheeks, his forehead, touched lightly his little nose and held his tiny fingers in her thumb. "You're so handsome, baby boy."

Bruce approached them, gently caressing his son's head – it had a good portion of dark hair, soft like nothing else in the world was. "We should talk about a name, don't you think?"

Selina smiled at the baby, admiring him in what seemed to be an expression of complete amazement. "God, he's so wonderful isn't he?"

Bruce chuckled. "Yes. Yes, he is."

She closed her eyes as she kissed the baby's face again, now slowly breathing in the child's scent. She spoke in a whisper, careful to not wake him up:

"Your father and I need to find you a name, baby boy… a good one. Any suggestions?"

Bruce said nothing: it was a discussion he had had with Selina during almost her entire pregnancy. They hadn't settled in a single name through the whole time, neither for a boy or a girl. They had eventually agreed to wait until the birth, when they would finally find out the sex and would most definitely have to agree on a name. _At least_, Selina had reasoned, _we'll have a face to look and decide. I would hate to give him a name that just didn't fit._

"I like John", she was saying.

"We've talked about this. John… Wayne?"

"John _Kyle_", she corrected. "It sounds nice."

"He's a Wayne."

"And a Kyle."

He sighed. "How about Kyle Wayne, then?"

"I just don't see why he has to have the Wayne name; it's just _dangerous_, you being who you are…"

"But he's my son. I think it's important… especially because, you know…"

"Because he's a _bastard_, right?"She spoke in a tone of mockery.

"Don't say that." Bruce didn't find that funny. "It's a horrible word to use about our son."

She rolled her eyes. "Okay, okay… I'm sorry." She shrugged. "Although, it was what you were thinking, right? That you don't want people thinking you have _doubts_ about being his father…"

"I _don't_", he firmly said. "Besides, it's not about what _people_ will think… it's about how he'll feel. Don't you think he would find it weird? Not having his father's family name?"

She bit her lower lip and considered his words for a moment before answering:

"It's just that… I don't know. I think that being a Wayne might _complicate_ things for him."

"Maybe. But it will also open many doors."

"How about _Thomas_ Kyle? Thomas, like your dad…"

He pondered for a second, his eyes attentively watching his nameless son sleep in his mother's arms.

"I do like Thomas", he hesitantly declared, "but…"

"But?"

Bruce kneeled beside Selina, speaking softly as he gently ran the back of his fingers over the boy's head.

"When he was born… and taken to be reanimated…"

Selina took a deep breath; even the memory of that moment was enough to make her shiver. Bruce placed a hand on her leg, trying to reassure her; he proceeded:

"I… I don't know. I don't know _why_. But I thought about him, there, struggling to live, and I… I named him."

"_Named_ him?"

"Yes. It's awful, but I thought that… that if he _died_… he should have a name. He shouldn't die without a name."

He didn't raise his eyes to look at her, thinking that she would hate it; she would hate to know that he had considered that, their child dying, dead. However, when she finally spoke, she didn't sound angry or upset – in fact, there was an unusual tenderness in her voice:

"And how did you call him?"

He smiled faintly:

"Henry. I called him Henry."

She remained in silence for a while, quietly staring at the child. And then, in an almost soundless manner, she repeated the name, trying it in her lips:

"Henry… _Henry_…" Turning to Bruce, she pressed her lips tightly together, then smiling. "I think I like it. Henry."

Bruce took her hand, kissing it gently:

"Henry Wayne", he solemnly said.

But Selina replied:

"Oh, now you're just pushing your luck…"


	8. Chapter 8

They arrived at Selina's apartment in a beautiful morning, chilly and bright, she carrying the baby, and Bruce bringing the suitcase and Henry's car seat in his hands, a diperbag on his shoulder.

"Here we are, baby boy…", Selina was speaking softly to a very attentive infant, "your home."

Bruce groaned.

"Your father might not like it, but this is it… yes, it is…" She rocked the child gently in her arms.

"I just don't get it… why can't you stay at _my_ place? Alfred could help you when I'm not around, and Henry's room is ready… I've bought everything you could possible need…"

"And that's great, Bruce; really. Pretty soon you're gonna need it, when he goes to _your_ place to spend the night, or even a couple days…"

"That's just it", he said, interrupting her. "I don't want just a night here and there, or weekends, or any other arrangements… I want to be with him _every_ day." He approached Selina, hands in his pockets, an intense expression in his features. "To be with the _both_ of you, actually."

Selina sighed, shaking her head in denial. "C'mon, Bruce… This is not the right moment…"

"It's the _perfect_ moment", he insisted.

She looked from the baby to him, staring at Bruce austerely. "Remember when you used to tell me that this, _us_, it would never work…"

"That was before, Selina. Before Henry, before…"

"_Yes_", she vehemently agreed. "Before we had one of our chance encounters and I got pregnant by _accident_."

"Don't say that."

"Don't get me wrong, Bruce…" She gazed at her child, allowing the baby to take hold of her finger and pull it to his mouth, munching on her knuckle. "I love this little guy more than anything in the world… There's nothing I wouldn't do for him. That's why…"

Words seemed to have escaped her for a moment, silence between them.

"Don't you think", Bruce risked a thought, "that have us both all the time, together, would be the best for him?"

"Maybe", she immediately answered him. "But I was never one to settle for less than I deserve, and I honestly don't think I would be satisfied with the crumbles of your love for your son."

He frowned. "No. No, that's not…"

"Bruce", she stopped him mid-sentence. "You don't know. You _can't_. Whatever you think you feel about me right now… it's all because of _him_."

"Selina… listen, please."

"Bruce, no. We should _wait_. We _are_ going to wait."

In her arms, the baby fussed and whimpered.

"I have to feed him… he hasn't eaten in a while."

Bruce offered:

"Here, let me hold him while…"

"I'm okay", she said, quite bluntly. "I can handle it."

He watched in silence while she sat on the sofa and opened her blouse, Henry immediately latching to her breast.

"That's a good boy", she tenderly whispered. "You're such a good boy, Henry…"

_Don't do that_, he wanted to say. _Don't isolate yourself, don't cut me off._ He wanted to find the right words, he wanted to find a way to show her, _prove_ to her that he meant what he said. That he actually believed they belonged together, and not just because of Henry. Yes, their son had been the one thing that brought them together at that time, months ago… but it was more than that. It had taken not just her pregnancy, but also many other things: Clark and Diana, Damian's death, him realizing he was actually feeling that there was something missing in his life.

In truth, he had always had feelings for her. Somehow, even though she was a criminal - technically, an enemy - they had worked out a clandestine and occasional relationship through the years. He had been attracted to her from the beginning; it was almost like it was meant to be. Everything about her was appealing to him, seductive, disconcerting. And that was why, in many ways, he had kept his distance: the safe distance that allowed him to keep himself from connecting to her in an emotional way. They had sexual adventures, brief, tense encounters that were quickly over and oddly managed. He never asked, never answered, and hoped that he wouldn't _feel_ anything. That he would never actually need more than those short-lived moments of sexual release and stress relief.

Perhaps he shouldn't blame her: before the baby, before her pregnancy, he had never given her any signs that he cared for her in any way that was beyond the pure and simple physical attraction and a great amount of badly directed desire. He had never intended to make her feel used, unworthy, but he might have done that anyway. And now, he was dealing with the consequences of his inconsequential and narrow sighted behavior.

It didn't help that he had been extremely secretive about her pregnancy, telling just a few people about it. As Dick had accurately put it: _"You're telling me because you want me to know"_, he asked, _"or is it because you think you couldn't hide it from me forever?"_

He had answered Dick with the truth, and that was: both.

Selina obviously knew he had to be discreet, for Henry's sake; she had done the same. The longer they could keep their son away from prying eyes, the better – and even friends can talk too much. But still… he sometimes wondered if Selina didn't resent that. Maybe she did, perhaps feeling like he actually felt ashamed, considered their child the unexpected blessing that came from a mistake. And it was hard to denial this, he recognized. Henry wasn't _planned_. And as much as he now wished he and Selina could be together, he had to admit that it would be awfully hard for his fellow justice leaguers, for instance, to accept that relationship. It was hard _already_ – he had heard a few jokes that weren't funny about how he was "kind of soft on that cat-burglar that pounces around Gotham". And when the unofficial news that Catwoman had also joined the JLA had hit the Watchtower, Diana said that it was "shameful" for Trevor to work besides someone like Selina. _Shameful_, she had said. For _Trevor._

No wonder Clark had agreed with him that he shouldn't tell Diana about the baby just yet.

Funny that now that Henry was actually there Bruce didn't seem to care as much about what Diana or anyone else thought about Selina and himself getting together. He _wanted_ that. It felt _right_. It didn't matter what other people could think or would say.

But maybe it was already too late.

Months, _years_ of unmeasured carefulness and selfishness had done their damage. It had even led Selina to think she should _abort_ their child, at one point – why was he surprised that she didn't believe he was sincere in his wish to be with her? Just months ago she had assumed he wouldn't even _want_ that child. Least of all her. Hell, maybe she even thought the only reason he had wanted her to keep the baby was because he had lost Damian…

And she wasn't the only one.

The Martian had said, that night, when he went to the cave and told him about Selina's pregnancy:

"_This is not my secret to share, but you've lost a son. I want to give you at least a choice, this time."_

A choice – did the Martian believe he was cold to the point that he would abandon Selina to take care of their child alone? Or not at all? Did the alien believe he would be _glad_ if Selina had gone through with the abortion? Sure, he would respect, accept Selina's decision…

"Something wrong?"

She was the one asking, watching him in an expression that denounced her curiosity. Henry was still on her breast, giving no signs he was about to get satisfied.

"No", he quickly answered. "I'm fine. Just… thinking."

Selina returned her attention to the baby, lightly kissing the fingers in his tiny, restless hand. She seemed truly comfortable like that: just her and their son, she bravely enduring the natural discomfort of the first days of breastfeeding, a smile as she watched the little boy's peaceful, content features.

"I'll make you lunch", Bruce announced, needing to feel useful again.

Again she stared at him in an intrigued glance:

"It's okay, Bruce, you don't have to. I can handle…"

"Selina, if you don't want to go to my place… I'm sorry, but you'll have to put up with me _here_ instead."

She didn't say anything to that; she was probably trying to decide if that was a good or a bad thing.

**Xxxxxxxxxxx**

Colonel Trevor was sat just ahead of Amanda Waller, a dozen pictures in his hands.

"How did you manage to have his picture taken?", he asked. He was holding several images of a newborn in an incubator, different poses and angles of the same sleeping infant. Funny, weird little thing: a handful of dark hair covering the top part of his bald little head, swollen eyes, reddish cheeks, long limbs. How someone could find those things beautiful was a mystery to him.

"I had an agent infiltrated as a nurse for months, now", Waller calmly explained.

"And how did you know they would go to that specific hospital?"

"I didn't", she admitted. "Had at least one agent in basically all the hospitals in Gotham."

Trevor nodded, not a bit surprised. He now knew Waller enough to know there were no limits to her eager ambition, no lines she wouldn't cross to get where she wanted. _Oh, well_, he used to tell himself, _maybe she actually is the right person for this job._ Steve had to recognize he perhaps was too much of a "by the book" kind of guy – clearly, not what A.R.G.U.S. needed right now.

"They named him Henry Kyle", Waller told him. "Thank God. I feared Selina would want one of those strange names people use today."

Steve chuckled.

"Never thought Wayne would settle for that, not giving the kid his surname, giving up all that 'Wayne family tradition' nonsense."

"It's not nonsense", she said, acting as slightly offended. "They did the _smart_ thing, trying to hide the child's connection to him… but a family name is not _nonsense_. It's history. Identity. Connections."

"Okay…" He wasn't convinced, he didn't even agree to that, but desperately wanted to change subjects. He hated when Waller got sentimental – it usually also made her meaner afterwards. "Anyway, it doesn't seem like we can do much right now. What's our next step? Surveillance?"

"Yes." Amanda was rubbing her chin with the back of her hand. "Surveillance, of course, and perhaps we could try contact with Selina. She doesn't hate _all_ of us, at least."

"It's not about _hate_. She's smart. If you go too far, too soon, she will read us in a second."

"Maybe you're right", she pondered. "Still, we've got long arms. We'll find a way."

Steve frowned: like often happened, he had no idea what the heck Waller was talking about.

**Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

As the day gave in for the night, he kept standing by the window of Selina's living room, his gaze randomly wondering outside from time to time.

She had just put Henry down for a nap, knowing he would be up again in just a few short hours to eat. Bruce was waiting for her:

"Did he sleep?"

"Oh, yeah. Profoundly asleep… for now." She shook the baby monitor in her hands. "Let's see how long it lasts."

"Go to bed. I can keep an eye on him while you rest", he offered, hand stretched as he took the monitor from her.

She gave him the device, although inquisitively staring at him:

"You're not…?" She began, though never finishing the question.

"I'm not… what?"

She shrugged, in pretense indifference. "Going out. You know, as your _other_ self…"

He didn't answer that, merely glaring out the window again.

"It's just that it has been three nights already… I just assumed…"

"Not tonight", he quickly stated. "Not yet."

"Doesn't Gotham need you?"

"You need me more. I mean, Henry does." He looked over his shoulder to see her. "Unless you don't want me to stay?"

Again she moved her shoulders, unconcerned. "It's up to you."

"I'll stay, then", he declared.

There was a moment of silence as she observed him, standing with his back to her, hands in his pockets, eyes outside.

"You look anxious", she noted.

He finally turned completely to her, seeming distracted:

"What did you say?"

"You look _concerned_", she said, now realizing she was feeling a bit restless herself. "Something wrong?"

"No. No, don't worry."

"'Don't worry…'", she repeated. "Easy to say, hard to accomplish."

He took a few steps towards her, suddenly reaching a hand to touch her face. She didn't move away from his touch.

"Bruce", she said in a whisper, "do you think we're going to be okay? _Us_, I mean. You and I."

He offered her instant reassurance: pulling her to him, he embraced her in a protective, tender gesture. "We are. We're fine."

"Even if we are not meant to be together", she proceeded, "we have to parent this kid together."

She could feel his warm, gentle breath on her hair, his chin grazing her forehead. "You're not going to lose me", he was telling her. "I'll be here for you, I promise. Always."

Taking a step back, she looked up to him. "You stay, tonight. Tomorrow night… you go back to your cave."

He frowned. "Are you sure?"

She smiled. "You're suffering already."

"I'm not. I'm not, I'm just…"

"Looking out through the window every five minutes? Yeah, I noticed."

He didn't answer her, an enigmatic expression in his features.

**Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Later that night, Bruce walked around the apartment, checking windows and doors. Selina had no idea, but while they were at the hospital, he had made a few improvements in the apartment's security system. Although she had placed alarms and cameras herself when she moved in, he had asked Tim and Barbara to help him with a couple upgrades while they were away – one of them, of course, connecting the whole system to his private security network. Now, not an insect would be able to enter or move in that place without his knowledge.

Or so he hoped.

He went to her bedroom, where Selina was soundly asleep on her bed. Before, when she was pregnant, he didn't have to worry much about waking her up. Now, every second of rest was precious, and he wouldn't want to disturb her already light sleep. Still, he approached the bed and lowered himself close to it, one knee on the floor, eyes examining her face in the darkness. She looked so peaceful and young, he could hardly believe that she was now the mother of a child. Of _their_ child.

Not far from there, in a bassinet placed near the bed, Henry briefly protested, then falling asleep again. Selina moved at the sounds of the baby, thought not disturbed enough to actually awake; she merely turned under the sheets, mumbling unintelligible things and then returning to her dreams.

It was almost painful, Bruce thought, to look at Selina and their son like that, together, safely lying on their beds, vulnerable and serene. It made him utterly aware that the world outside that bedroom was big and dangerous, full of people that had their own agendas and desires, people that had no scrupulous when it came to the point of hurting a woman or a child. And, to make things worse, he had no way of protecting the both of them as he wanted, and how he had planned.

If things had gone _his_ way, Selina and Henry would be at Wayne Manor, under his most vigilant care. Not only the manor was safely guarded by the most advanced and effective devices, he also had extra hands there: Alfred, at least, sometimes Dick, Tim, even Jason. If something happened, and he couldn't be there himself, he knew he could count on them. No doubt the boys would eagerly want to help if the situation presented itself that way.

And, the most pressing matter: he would be sure that Selina and Henry would be safe from the prying eyes that now seemed to be at work.

He had first noticed it at the hospital: a nurse that had changed shifts twice to be in the NICU team that would handle Henry's feeding and bath. He had also noticed her skills – or lack of, actually. While most of the nurses in the NICU were very familiar with babies, and seemed to have genuine care for the children, that woman handled the babies with less concern and ability, her level of proficiency way below when compared to her peers. That had bothered him so much that he had specifically asked for other nurses to treat his son, and hadn't been able to leave the child alone in his incubator during their entire stay there, staying away from him only for minutes, when he was summoned to sign a few papers regarding the payment of the medical expenses.

Then, of course, it was the couple that had just moved to the building on the other side of the street, occupying the apartment that was directly in front of Selina's place. The first time he saw them, carrying boxes upstairs while he had gone to the café on the corner of the street to buy Selina a muffin, he had immediately thought that they look like cops, not husband and wife. It was the way they behaved, and spoke to each other; how they _touched_ each other. Not to mention, the concealed gun on the woman's calf.

Every now and then he would go to the window. They would be there, doing something perfectly normal and ordinary: fixing a lamp, cooking dinner, cleaning a closet. There was nothing strange or particularly unusual about them – and that in itself was pretty remarkable. People always have _something_. A bad habit, an odd behavior, a curious hobby. And, so far, nothing had come up for that couple.

Not to mention, they never looked through their windows.

He didn't want to scare Selina. Perhaps he was just being paranoid, and she would probably think so. But he had that gut feeling… that they _were_ being watched. Truth was, too many people knew about Selina's pregnancy, and to be Catwoman's child was already a dangerous thing… how about Batman's child on top of that?

His heart skipped a beat just at that thought… that someone might be already planning to hurt his child.

It would be hard, but he had to go back to the cave. Back to his uniform, back to be Batman. Selina was right: it was about time. Because if someone was after Batman's son, guess what?

Batman is what they would get.


	9. Chapter 9

"Nice place, Steve", the girl noted.

"Thanks", he said, closing the door behind him. "Wanna see the rest of it?"

"Sure."

She couldn't be older than twenty two, maybe twenty three years old. He just hoped she was over twenty one.

Pick up girls in a bar, that wasn't his style. In fact, he couldn't remember the last time he had done it. Before Iraq? Maybe.

No doubt much had changed since. He was _Colonel_ Steve Trevor, and his life was basically work. Since he had joined A.R.G.U.S., roughly five years ago, he had hardly met any women, unless if you counted Amanda Waller or the female members of the JLA. And he certainly hadn't been romantically involved with any one… not since Diana.

He had recently decided, in a very rational way, that that had to change.

Waller had showed him the pictures: satellite images had caught images of Diana and Superman flying over the North Pole. Together. And not just simply in the company of each other… touching each other. Kissing. And doing more than that.

_This is serious_, Waller had told him. _This is not just an adventure, a fling. They are together Colonel, the two most powerful beings on this planet… and there isn't much we could do to stop them if we had to._

Waller was right. Diana and Superman together? That was wrong. And something had to be done about it, no doubt – but maybe not tonight.

Tonight, perhaps he could just try and forget about it. Enjoy the company of one very young lady that seemed more than willing to distract him for a few hours.

"Here", he told the girl, showing her the hallway of his apartment, "that's the way to my bedroom."

"Can't wait to see that", she joked, smiling in a suggestive manner.

He returned her grin, feeling strangely uncomfortable for doing so. Nevertheless, he opened the door to the bedroom, revealing only the darkness in there. He searched for the switch, turning it on… but the lights remained off.

"Oh", the girl said, "your lights are not working."

But Steve knew better.

"No. Lights were fine", he muttered.

The voice came from the darkest corner of the room, that grave, hoarse sound:

"Send the woman away, Colonel", the tone was imperative, demanding. "Now."

Trevor looked at the girl, finding her mute and pale, scared like she had seen a ghost – in a way, she had.

"You should go", he said.

The woman nodded, quickly turning back through the dark hall and finding her handbag on Steve's living room, then walking out of the door. When he was sure she was definitely gone, Trevor finally addressed the darkness:

"What the hell do you want, Batman?"

He never saw it: the punch came from nowhere, hitting him straight on his chin. He felt it: his entire head shaking, his head light and gone… dark. Not merely the darkness in his bedroom – true darkness, his mind turning off for a moment, ignoring everything that was happening around him: his body falling to the floor, his jaw cracking in an unpleasant way, blood filling his mouth and coming down his throat.

A second.

When he hit the floor, pain and bright colorful spots had taken over. He felt the coldness of leather gloves grabbing his arms and twisting his wrist, tight metal handcuffs around them. He coughed and spat, his blood dark as it hit the wall next to him and the white door, even darker than _him_. Blood and an unpleasant feeling, his jaw wrenching as he tried to open his mouth:

"Son… of… a… bitch", he managed to mumble.

He looked up to the awful masked man on top of him, who was now grabbing him by his collar and forcing him to sit on the floor, back against the bedroom wall.

"Shut up, Colonel", he groaned, his voice a husky, raspy sound. "You're here to listen, not talk."

Steve was able to produce a throaty laugh:

"Screw you… Batman."

But Batman was in a horrible mood, apparently: he shoved the Colonel against the wall once again, forcing all the air in Steve's lungs out. His message was clear:

"Shut. Up."

Trevor was a soldier, an obedient one, but the only reason he complied to Batman's orders was because he didn't have a choice. Not only he had been robbed of air by violent pushes, now Batman had a hand around his neck, barely allowing him to breath. So close, so close was that dark, ugly mask to Steve's face that he could see it: his eyes, the human eyes under the mask, often concealed, rarely discernable. But there, there they were, fixed on him, full of rage and viciousness.

"Listen", Batman was saying again, now through clenched teeth, "I want you to tell Waller to pull it off, hear me?"

The Colonel admitted his mind was somewhat slow, being thrust around against walls and deprived of air, and that was probably why it took him a few seconds to figure it out: Batman probably meant the surveillance they had placed around Selina.

"A.R.G.U.S. is gonna back off; do you hear me, Colonel? _Back. Off_."

Steve didn't answer him immediately. As Batman's hand loosened around his neck, he drew air a couple times before finally answering, his voice barely audible:

"You… shouldn't have…"

"What's that?" Again Batman pushed him against the wall, forcing his already punished face up by grabbing it brutally.

Trevor spoke up, grinning unexpectedly as he did it:

"This… this was… a _dumb_ thing to… do. Stupid… stupid, stupid…"

Now Batman's fist hit him right on his nose, an unpleasant snapping sound reverberating in Steve's skull just as he felt a gush of warm blood pouring through his nostrils.

"You're going to leave us _alone_, Trevor", Batman was saying, though his voice was a distant sound that echoed in Steve's mind from far away. "I don't want to see even a _shadow_ of A.R.G.U.S. agents near Selina, hear me? Near my _child_."

Steve's head pended forward, a cascade of blood pooling between his legs. Still, he forced the words out of mouth:

"Go to… _hell_, Batman! We're _protecting_ them, you asshole!"

Before he could be pushed back once again, Trevor suddenly raised his face and spat a good amount of blood and saliva on Batman's armored chest:

"It's just a matter of… time… before they figure it… out."

"They?"

Trevor spat again, now not directly at Batman – he had his attention, why ruin that?

"They", he repeated, now facing Batman in a daring, cocky expression. "One of the damn… _freaks_… that populate your world…"

There was no answer from the masked vigilant. Trevor proceeded:

"Word in the streets… travel fast. And once the news that Catwoman had a child… runs around…" He chuckled. "No one needs to be a genius to guess who _baby's daddy_ is, right?"

"Maybe", Batman snarled. "But let them know… let every single low life, criminal, _villain_ in this world knows… that anyone that comes near Catwoman's child… will answer to _me_."

"Right. Very smart", Steve muttered.

"A.R.G.U.S. needs to _back off_, hear me?"

Batman stood up, his boots stained in several places by Steve's blood. "Remember, Colonel: tell Waller about our little _conversation_."

"Go to hell."

"Don't worry about the handcuffs", Batman said as he left through the window. "I'm sure one of your government friends will come over to check on you when you don't show up to work in the morning."

Steve didn't answer; once he saw Batman was finally gone, he allowed himself to heavily fall to the floor on his stomach. He was nauseated and in pain but, if he managed to hit the hidden button under his bed, he would activate an alarm – much better than wait until morning to someone to find him. Besides, he wanted to reach his gun under his pillow; if Batman, for any reason, decided to return, he would blow his knee cap and kick him until he started to piss blood.

_Goddamn it, Selina,_ he privately cursed. _How the hell did you get involved with such a prick, anyway?_

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

"It makes sense, actually", was Waller speaking.

"That I have a concussion, a broken nose, a fractured wrist and a wire in my jaw?"

Colonel Trevor was lying on a bed, where he had been for the last two days. He could barely open his mouth, unless it was to tell his unfortunate tale about his meeting with Batman. Waller didn't seem too sympathetic:

"Yes, that too." She agreed with Trevor. "But I was referring to his action in a broader sense…

"Oh. You mean him invading my apartment and beating me."

Amanda Waller was sat in a chair next to the Colonel, both in A.R.G.U.S.'s medical wing.

"Actually, I mean his _message_."

"It was pretty clear", Steve bitterly said.

Waller nodded. "Indeed. And an interesting move from his part."

"I beg to differ."

"You know what I mean", the Director quickly spoke, sounding too calm about what Steve judged as a pretty insulting episode. He didn't hide his dissatisfaction:

"I don't think I do, actually."

Waller had her gaze not in Trevor, but lost in thoughts and fixed at the wall ahead. "It's a message, Steve, but not as you implied…"

"I didn't imply. I merely told you what…"

"_Think"_, she urged. "He does a damn show of beating you up and telling us to back off… why?"

"Because he's an insane son of a bitch, that's why."

"No", she corrected him, clearly disappointed. "He's testing us. He's testing A.R.G.U.S.'s defenses, our purposes, even checking for information leaks."

"If that's true, you're as crazy as he is."

"And there's more…"

"I'm sure there is…"

"He's sending a message… that Batman doesn't need _help_."

Steve sighed, too tired to keep debating Waller.

"He wants every single enemy, even allies, to know… that he's got all figured out…"

"Oh, yeah?" Trevor wasn't really interested in the subject anymore, turning to the other side of the bed and changing channels in his TV.

"Yes. And you know why?"

Steve rolled his eyes. "No, I don't; enlighten me."

When she spoke, she did it with a smile:

"Because he doesn't, Colonel. Because, for the first time since forever, he's _scared_ of what might happen."


	10. Chapter 10

When Batman arrived at the Watchtower's meeting room, all the others were already there. Quietly sat around table, only Superman standing by the window, looking at planet Earth below them, his back to the team, not even turning to acknowledge Batman's arrival. That would be odd enough, being Clark his only actual friend in the group, but he didn't need that to know something was wrong: the fact that Victor had called an urgent meeting, with Green Lantern included, was all the information he needed to deduce that they were about to have an unpleasant afternoon. That was why he, even before taken his seat, declared:

"I can't stay."

Glances were exchanged around the table: Barry to Hal, Arthur to Victor, Diana looking to her own entangled fingers on her lap; in his corner, Clark didn't move.

"Batman", Wonder Woman begun, "we need to talk."

"You called a meeting, didn't you?" He stared at each one of his colleagues, noticing how they were all avoiding his gaze – all but Diana, that was.

She held his eyes on hers, looking straight at his mask. "Things were brought to our attention, Bruce."

"_Things_", he repeated in a scornful tone. "And what _things_ could you be referring to?"

"Calm down, Bruce", Victor asked. "We just want to talk…"

"Did you", Diana interrupted, unable to contain her anxiety or disguise her anger, "attack Steve Trevor?"

Her tone was demanding, imperative. It caused Superman to finally turn to look at the group and censure Wonder Woman:

"Diana, please. We're not here to fight."

"No, we're not, Superman", Aquaman agreed. "But Batman has not answered Wonder Woman's question yet, and I very much want to hear what he has to say."

All eyes on him, Batman nodded:

"Yes. I paid Colonel Trevor a visit."

Reactions around the room went from shock to fury. No one seemed more upset about it than Diana, though:

"How dare you?" She rose from her chair, both hands on the table, her body leaned ahead at Batman's direction.

"It doesn't concern you, Wonder Woman."

"It doesn't…" She lowered her head for a moment, regaining her breath and calm. When she looked at him again, her blue eyes sparkled with what could only be described as divine wrath. Despite that, her voice sounded almost calm. "You say it doesn't concern me? Or anyone else in this room?"

He didn't answer her: his only reaction was to stubbornly cross his arms.

"Why don't you tell us, _Bruce_, why you did that?"

"If there was something I thought you should know, Diana, I would have told you."

"I don't trust your judgment, Batman."

"Now, Diana…" It was Barry, the Flash, speaking. He had gently touched Wonder Woman's arm, in an attempt of calming her down. "Take it easy, will you? Batman might not like to _share_ about his personal life too much, but he has always been honest."

"Flash is right", Green Lantern agreed. "I'm not a fan of Bruce's personality, but he plays fair… if he did to Steve what you told us he did… well, I'm sure he had his reasons. Right, Bats?"

Again he remained in silence, staring at Wonder Woman. She didn't seem convinced by her teammate's arguments:

"Oh, Lantern", she spoke with a smile, "you're so very right. Bruce had his reasons… extremely _personal_ reasons."

Batman gazed at Superman, who quietly observed everything from a corner.

"You _told_ her", he groaned.

"I didn't…" Superman was about to explain himself, but he was interrupted:

"Told her what?" Aquaman had a worried expression in his features. "I don't like how this is sounding. There's too much that is not being said here…"

"I don't understand it myself, Arthur", Diana said, mockery in her tone. "A blessed event took place in Bruce's life, but he has decided to keep it from us…"

"Don't", was all Batman said, a menacing tone in his hoarse voice.

"'Blessed event'? Wait…" Green Lantern turned an inquisitive glance at Batman. "You don't mean…"

"A _child_", Wonder Woman spoke loudly, defiance in her tone and face. "Bruce had a _child_, and he didn't think we should be allowed to know it."

"I don't understand", Flash mumbled. "Why..? Why couldn't you tell us, Bruce?"

But Batman was standing again, a finger pointed at Wonder Woman in a threatening gesture:

"You shouldn't have done that!"

"No, Bruce…! _You_ were the one that made a mistake by not telling us…"

"My son is not Justice League's business… he's just a child, and he shouldn't be involved in all this!"

"Son?" Hal smiled. "It's a boy, then? Congratulations! I'll buy something blue."

"Do we have to give presents?" Barry mused. "I wish someone had told me before, I didn't bring anything…"

"Hey, hey! Calm down, everybody!" Aquaman silenced the room by punching the table and causing it to bend. All eyes turned to him, and he spoke in his most reasonable tone. "Let's try to keep an open mind here, shall we? Yes, Wonder Woman, I agree that Batman acted too harshly by attacking Colonel Trevor for whatever reason, without telling any of us, but we should listen to what he has to say." He waved towards Bruce. "Besides, I'm with you, Batman. Our families are not League business, and you should be able to decide if you want to share this kind of information or not."

"That's fair", Green Lantern nodded in agreement.

"Unless", Wonder Woman pondered, "if it's something that put _all _of us and _our_ families in danger, wouldn't you agree?"

All eyes were on her, including Batman's furious gaze:

"You're about to make a serious mistake, Diana."

"No, Bruce. This is _your_ mistake. I'm just trying to fix it." She looked around the room, staring at each of them before finally speaking. "The mother of Batman's son… is the woman called Selina Kyle."

"Selina Kyle…?" Aquaman seemed confused. "Who's Selina Kyle?"

"You might know her as Catwoman", Cyborg said, projecting images of her for them to see. "She's the most dangerous thief in the world."

"Your wife is a _criminal_?" Barry seemed deeply shocked.

"We are not _married_", Batman corrected Flash.

"Oh… okay. My bad."

"You might not be married", Wonder Woman proceeded, "but you are pretty close, wouldn't you say?"

"What are you implying, Diana? That my relationship with Selina could harm the League?" He spoke in a furious whisper. "Like yours and Superman's?"

"Bruce, c'mon!" Superman had finally approached the table, placing himself next to Batman. "Diana is just worried that, through you, Catwoman could have access to certain information that…"

"… that could compromise the team and all its members." It was Cyborg speaking, his tone unemotional.

The disappointment in Batman's voice was almost palpable:

"_You_ told her… You had access to A.R.G.U.S.'s database…" He shook his head in disbelief. "How could you, Victor?"

"How could you keep all this from us, Bruce?" Now it was Cyborg that sounded disappointed. "I thought we were _friends…!_"

As Batman didn't seem to have an answer for Victor, Wonder Woman gravely spoke:

"He kept it from us because he's _ashamed_, Victor. Because he knows that his involvement with that woman is _dangerous_, and it could be the ruin of us all."

"Shut up, Diana!" Batman spoke violently, his expression translating fury and resentment. "Don't say another word, or I'll make sure you'll regret it."

Silence suddenly fall over them, Batman's threat still echoing in their ears. Anger, sadness, confusion, fear: all could be found there, in the Watchtower's main room. The irony of that wasn't lost on Batman – he realized that this place was where the greatest heroes in the planet should be thinking about how to save the world, and not discussing their personal lives and internal power struggles. And they certainly shouldn't be discussing their romantic choices.

Perhaps Superman thought the same, since he was the first of them to break the silence:

"Let's all take a step back and calm down, okay?"

"Agreed", Aquaman said, still sat on his chair and scratching his chin. "I think we have a point to consider."

"And what is that?" Batman had remained standing, his cape around him, a defensive position as all eyes were on him.

Aquaman sighed before answering:

"As much as I respect your right to privacy, Batman, I also believe that your relationship to this Selina Kyle is a liability we should evaluate."

"A _liability_? It's the mother of Bruce's child we're talking about." Superman seemed displeased by Arthur's statement. "Besides, Catwoman hasn't been on the wrong side of the law for a while now; she has even been part of Trevor's Justice League of America…"

"It's okay, Clark", Batman raised a hand and spoke in an uncharacteristically serene tone. "I want to see where Arthur is going with all this."

"Okay." Aquaman glanced around to his colleagues, then facing Batman once again. "Where I'm going is: I don't think you should be calling the shots anymore."

"Are you saying you want to _fire_ Batman? Really?" Green Lantern chuckled in disbelief.

"All I'm saying is that perhaps Batman should step back from leadership for a while. He has been… compromised."

"No", Superman firmly said. "Bruce has been leading us for six years now, and he has done a remarkable job…"

"Maybe six years is enough, Superman", Victor interrupted him. "We all know how much Bruce has helped, but…" He briefly glanced at Batman's impassible features, than returning to look at his teammates. "But maybe it's time Bruce reset his priorities."

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?"

Cyborg shrugged. "Maybe you're not as _invested_ in the League as you once were. That's all."

"Why? Because I have a kid?"

"No, Bruce", Diana spoke in bitterness. "Because you threatened and beat people that used to be your _friends_. Because you keep too many secrets. Because you were careless enough to conceive a child that you can't protect."

"You judgmental, arrogant…"

"Hey, hey!" It was Barry again. "Please, let's keep things _civilized_, okay? No name calling and, especially…" He turned to Wonder Woman. "… let's keep the _children_ out of the topic, agreed?"

"Good point, Flash." Superman had his arms crossed over his chest and frowned in anger.

"I have a proposal", Aquaman said.

"Shoot, Arthur." Green Lantern asked, clearly uncomfortable with the direction things were taking.

"I suggest we _vote_."

"Vote? Vote what?" Flash seemed confused. "You want us to decide if Batman is a fitting leader by _voting_?"

"Isn't that how you chose your leader in America?"

"Well, yeah… but that's different…" He whispered. "None of the candidates is ever the Batman…"

"I think it's a good idea", Victor suddenly said. He turned to stare at Batman, grieve in his features, but a firm tone as he spoke. "I think you are the smartest, bravest, selfless person I know, Bruce… but I also think you're stubborn and a control-freak. And with a kid… I don't know. I just don't think you'll be able to make decisions the same way." He looked down, unable to keep his eyes on Batman's mask. "I think you could be a great father. You _are_. And that's why you did what you did to Steve, I guess. But you were thinking like a _dad_. Not like the Justice League's leader. You had never done something like that before and, frankly… it scared me."

Batman remained silent, and didn't move a single muscle as Cyborg proceeded:

"I vote against you, Bruce. I'm sorry."

Flash shook his head in disagreement. "No. No, you don't get it…" He looked around the table to face the rest of the League as he spoke. "Look, maybe Batman made a _mistake_ with Steve. It was bad, but aren't we all allowed a few mistakes? It's just human!" He pointed at Batman. "And that's the only guy among us that is just that: _human_. He has no powers! No powers, and still, he's the best among us. The one we all look for when we need answers, decisions, a _solution_. Do you want to ditch the guy? Just because of _one_ bad call?" He spoke firmly. "I'm with Batman. If it was up to me, he would remain as our leader."

"I agree." It was Green Lantern speaking. "I don't always see eye to eye with you, Bruce, but I recognize a terrific job when I see one. What you did, what you do everyday… it's admirable. Flash is right: just the fact that you are here with us is proof enough that you are a remarkable man." He took a deep breath. "And there's this: we are always complaining that Batman doesn't trust us, that he's plotting behind our backs… but I tell you, _thank God_ he does it. Someone needs to. Someone that knows us, and that we can trust to make the tough decision if the situation ever requires it. And I _trust_ Batman. I know he will do the right thing, no matter what."

"He won't." Diana sounded resolute and ruthless. "That's where you're wrong, the both of you. He's too involved. Can't you see?" She pressed her lips together, considering her next words carefully. "This is not a child born in a steady, healthy relationship… I'm sorry, Bruce, but your son will never be able to live a happy, ordinary life… the son of Batman? And Catwoman?"

Batman's only reaction was to intensely stare at Diana. She held his gaze on hers:

"You were irresponsible. You condemned a child to a hard, dangerous life. And now you'll have to deal with it for the rest of _your_ life. The sad truth is: you will never find peace again." She looked away from Batman to face the rest of the League. "Batman will never be able to be the leader the League needs again. I vote against him."

"I make Diana's words my own", Aquaman declared. "I didn't always agree with Batman in his calls, but I could never deny his commitment to this group or the sincerity in his heart. Until today." He frowned. "Not only what you did to Colonel Trevor, but your reactions here, today… you are a different man, Bruce. One that is not in a position to lead."

Silence fell to the room again, as all eyes turned to Superman. He was back at the window, looking outside, hovering a few feet over the ground.

"Clark?" Diana called.

"Yes", he answered. "I know. It's my turn."

He flew back to stand closer to the group. Looking at each of them, he spoke:

"This is Batman. He's our friend. He has saved our lives over and over. He's the most brilliant man I know, and the most dedicate crime fighter you'll ever find. If he trusts Selina Kyle, so should we. If he is now a father, it's our job, as _friends_, to help him be the best father he could." When he looked around the table, he did in an expression that showed sadness. "We can't turn our backs on our friend. We can't judge his personal choices. We should be _happy_ for him… and wonder why he felt that he couldn't tell us about the most important person in his life. Perhaps because he foresaw all that is happening now?"

No one risked an answer to that question. He proceeded:

"So here is my vote: Batman stays as our leader. And we try to be better friends for each other from now on."

Diana seemed deeply disappointed. "Clark… how could you?"

"I'm sorry, Diana. I'm sorry, but I have to remain true to what I believe."

Aquaman rose from his seat. "I guess it's settled, then. Three votes against Batman, the rest for him. Everything stays the same…"

"Wait", Batman interrupted him. "_I_ didn't vote."

Arthur frowned. "I just assumed…"

"You assume too much." Raising his hands to his cowl, Batman removed it, revealing his face. "This is something I rather do showing my face."

Aquaman sat again, obviously annoyed: "If you're looking for a chance to deliver yet another speech…"

"Three votes in favor. Three votes against", he groaned. "It's a tie."

Diana exhaled loudly. "Just do it, Bruce. Scowl us once again."

Batman reacted to that with a saddened half-grin.

"You don't know me at all, Diana." He stared at the others, who returned his gaze in evident inquisitiveness. "I don't think anyone here really knows me, and that's my fault. But I won't apologize for that. As I won't apologize for what I did to Steve Trevor, or for my relationship with Selina. And I certainly will _never_ apologize for my son."

"Bruce", it was Cyborg speaking. "I never intended to sound like you shouldn't have had a child…"

"But you did, Victor. You said that being a hero and being a father are things that often don't go well together… and you're right."

"Wait", Flash said, "you're not retiring, are you?"

"No", Batman gravely answered. "I need to be Batman, if for nothing else, for my son's sake."

"That's a relief", Green Lantern commented.

"I'm leaving the Justice League, though."

Shocked faces remained silent as they watched him in confusion.

"You can't be serious", Barry was the first to break the silence.

"I am."

"Bruce", Cyborg said, clearly distressed, "don't do this. We still need you…"

"You're gonna be fine." He put his mask back on. "It's like you said, Victor… I have to rethink my priorities."

"Please, Bruce", Superman asked, "think about this."

"I did, Clark. For too long."

And without looking back, he left the room.


	11. Chapter 11

Selina was a mother for not even a month yet, but already she had managed to establish a routine.

That amazed her – she couldn't remember the last time in her life she had something that even looked like daily routines. In the orphanage, maybe?

But kids need consistence and habits, books were always saying. It was healthy. It helped keep them calm and feel safe. So, Selina, like any dutiful new mom, was doing her best to comply.

Early mornings in her _routine_ were feeding time and then a walk around the neighborhood while the baby napped in his stroller. It was really the best time for that: the streets were not crowded, she was usually feeling pretty rested, and Henry was always in a good mood. It was almost like magic – once he was changed and dressed, she would place him in his stroller and he would often be asleep before they even left the building.

Then, she would be outside, breathing the morning air, and it would always hit her: she _missed_ being outside. Time would run fast when she was home, taking care of a newborn – and she was so inexperienced in that, it was a pleasant surprise that she was doing so well -, but she was reminded everyday during her morning walks that there was a world outside, and she should never forget that.

She would grab the newspaper and a cup of decaf on her way to the park, later finding her usual bench in a beautiful corner of Robinson Park, close to the lake. There, while Henry slept, she would read about the world outside and all those problems that seemed so distant from her reality now. A sweet illusion, she knew; night after night, when Bruce usually came to visit, just before patrols, she would have a glimpse of the harsh, perpetually painful reality he dealt with everyday. All those problems and threats he never spoke about, but that she could read in his eyes.

It was Friday morning, and she went with her usual plans: baby asleep in his stroller, quick stop at the coffee shop, newspaper bought, her favorite spot in the Park. It was a cold morning, though the sky was clear, and she placed an extra blanket over Henry, who was so peaceful and calm that morning: he had eaten like a champ, burped in minutes, and even honored her with a smile. Her perfect baby boy…

"Cute kid", a male voice unceremoniously remarked. He was standing a few feet behind her, his tall shadow blocking the sun that would help keep Henry warm.

"Thanks", Selina expressed her gratitude without enthusiasm. She knew very well who the owner of that voice was. "Cute enough to bring Oliver Queen to Gotham City, apparently."

"You don't seem too happy to see me."

"Should I? Did you come to congratulate me and give my baby a full college scholarship or something like that?"

"Hey", he said, seating next to her on the bench, "I went to Baby'r'us, but they didn't have anything with cats that a little boy could use."

"Right." She gently rocked the stroller, noticing their conversation was disturbing Henry's sleep. "If you could just skip all the small talk meant to soften me, I would appreciate."

"Ouch."

"Yeah, well, I'm sleep deprived. It makes me cranky."

Oliver laughed. "Looks like you're doing pretty great, actually."

"Arrow…"

"_Oliver_, please. Or Ollie." He moved his head a little closer to hers, whispering. "Green Arrow is for when we are under masks, Selina."

"We are always under masks, Mr. Queen."

"Double ouch."

Selina looked ahead to the lake, eyes on the peaceful, golden water reflecting the glorious morning sun. In the stroller, Henry was deeply asleep again. She asked Oliver:

"Did Waller send you?"

"That depends", he answered, leaning his head back and allowing the sunlight to bathe his young, handsome face. "Will you hate me too much if she did?"

"I wouldn't _hate_ you, Ollie… or anyone else. We may not have parted in the best way, Waller and I, but I actually am grateful for being asked to be part of the JLA. I'll always be."

"Ah! The truth comes out…" He laughed.

"And I don't resent anyone." She assured him. "Not even you, for forgetting to bring my kid a gift."

Oliver chuckled:

"That can be fixed, you know."

"Not soon enough." She smiled.

They silenced for a few moments, both staring at the bright waters that gently moved at the soft pace of the wind. Selina sipped from her coffee, and Oliver sat straight in his place, yawning loudly.

She finally said:

"I trust not _everybody_ in A.R.G.U.S. knows about my pregnancy."

It took a few moments for Oliver to answer her, speaking in a grave tone:

"I didn't know until yesterday."

She nodded, coffee in her hands, a pensive gaze as she blinked repeatedly from the excessive light that reflected on the lake.

"Which leads to another question…", Selina declared. "_Why_ did they tell you?"

Oliver turned to look at her, an intensive expression in his features:

"Don't you know?"

"Considering that's probably the vaguest question you could possible make, I'm assuming something important happened, and you're actually testing me to see if I'm already aware of the fact."

"Wow… do you overthink everything?"

"No. Not really." She frowned. "I'm right, though, am I not?"

Oliver allowed himself a loud breath. Then:

"Three nights ago", he said, his voice showing no signs of his usual humorous tone, "Batman went to Colonel Trevor's home."

Selina felt those words hit her like a cold shower, but did her best to keep her features as impassible as possible, never betraying any signs of how much the information had affected her. If Oliver expected anything different from that, he also didn't show; after a moment, he proceeded:

"He hurt Steve, Selina. Pretty bad."

She kept her eyes on the landscape ahead:

"Define 'pretty bad'."

"'Broken jaw' pretty bad. How does that sound?" He seemed upset by her question. "Is that bad enough for you to reconsider Waller's proposition?"

"How the hell do you know about that?"

She was now staring at him, fury in her emerald gaze. Oliver shook his head:

"Damn, Selina… why can't you believe us?"

"_Us_, Oliver? Us? Since when are you so deeply involved with A.R.G.U.S. to consider yourself part of them?"

"I mean _us_, the JLA, Selina! Jon, Carter, Cisco, Courtney…"

"Waller. Trevor. Spies."

"Really? Are you gonna defend _him_ _still_?"

She remained silent. He sighed.

"Waller says he's the father of your child."

"Go away, Ollie."

"Is he? Because if he is, and if that's how he's going to deal with things… I wouldn't be very excited about sharing a kid with someone like that."

"Shut up", she bitterly said. "Shut up, Oliver… you don't know what you're talking about, and you shouldn't _judge_…"

"_Not_ judging. Just _saying_."

"And since when those things are not the same..?"

"Since, if I was judging, I would tell you that Batman is a ruthless, authoritarian, controlling son of a bitch that will keep you and your boy under his grasp until he doesn't _need_ you anymore."

"My God… do you really buy all that crap Waller throws at you? I thought you were smarter than that, Ollie…"

He rubbed his eyes with two fingers, biting his lower lip and then turning at her again:

"Selina. Listen, please. Batman is a great hero, maybe the _best_… but he's not the average nice guy that will settle down and be a family man."

"And why in the world would you think I want something like that?"

Oliver sternly pointed at Henry, still peacefully asleep in his stroller. "That's why."

"Low blow, Ollie."

"No. _Honest answer_. There's a difference." He stood up from his place on the bench next to her, hands in his pockets. "You're a good person, Selina. A good mother. And I know you'll always put your kid first. _Always_. But I'm afraid he just can't do the same…"

"He's _doing it,_ Oliver." She looked up to stare at his face, his tall figure against the morning sun. "He's… looking after us."

"No, Selina…" He sadly smiled. "You got it all wrong… he's not taking care of his family… he's treating you guys like you're his _property_."

"You don't have a kid, Ollie. You don't know what feels like…"

"Selina", he interrupted her, "he didn't even _tell_ you about Steve. About A.R.G.U.S.. Or why he felt that he needed to beat the crap out of Trevor." He shook his head again, clearly upset. "I won't speak for Waller, but Steve is a _good man_, Selina. He would never hurt you, he would never hurt your son!"

"I know", she whispered.

"What did you say?"

Selina took a deep breath; in his sleep, Henry smiled.

"I said", she spoke louder, "that you better go."

He nodded. "Yeah, You're right. Who knows when a dark, menacing figure might jump on me and beat my teeth out of my mouth?"

She didn't answer him; he shrugged.

"Well, this is it, I guess. See you, Selina. Congratulations on your baby. He really is cute."

He turned to leave, quick steps on the dry grass.

"Ollie", she called, when he was already a dozen feet away.

He looked over his shoulder:

"What?"

"Tell Steve…" She hesitated for a moment. "Tell him that I…"

The words escape her.

"What, Selina? What should I tell him?"

She glanced down at her son, who was now gently waking up, stretching his legs and arms, babbling in his adorable voice.

"Never mind", she finally said. "Never mind."

"Okay, Selina. Suit yourself."

She silently watched him distant himself from them, then turning her attention to the baby that now started to complain. Taking Henry out of his stroller, she held him close to her and kissed his forehead, then unbuttoning her shirt and placing him on her breast. As she watched him latch, in minutes calming down and peacefully resting in her arms, she didn't feel the usual sense of serenity and pleasure that accompanied those moments with her son. Instead, she felt restless and uneasy.

"Oh, Henry", she whispered to the oblivious child in her arms, "I just hope your father knows what he's doing."

XXXXXXXXXXXX

"Hello, son", Bruce solemnly said.

It was almost four o'clock in a cold, though sunny afternoon. And as Bruce usually did on Fridays, he stood over his dead son's grave.

He kneeled, his expensive pants touching the muddy ground. He didn't care; in his visits, he wanted to be as close as possible to what was now the eternal resting place of his child.

In one hand, the flowers. If he was to be honest, he would admit that he felt pretty silly placing the flowers on Damian's grave: the boy would mock him if he was there to watch it. _Flowers?_, he would say, _why in the world would a dead boy want flowers?_.

Indeed why. But, then again, why did Damian have to be dead?

Besides, the flowers were not for the boy. In truth, they were for himself. He needed it: a ritual, something to be _done_. So he could kneel close to the burial place of his son and gently leave those flowers, reminding himself of his immeasurable loss. Silently promising his dead son that he would _never_ be forgotten.

"Yesterday", he begun, his voice faltering as he did, "was a bad day." He took a deep breath, looking up to the bright sky through his sunglasses. "Although, I think you wouldn't censure me if you were here. Strangely enough, I think you might be the only one that would actually _understand_ what I did. Support me. You would, wouldn't you?"

He ran his hand over the gravestone that simply had Damian's date of death registered. Carefully, he cleaned it of the dirt and leaves that stubbornly fell and covered it.

"I had to leave the Justice League. I had to, and I think they wanted me to. I don't fit in anymore." Taking a handkerchief from his pocket, he used it to clean the edges of the stone and remove all the dust from the carved numbers. "And they think it's because of Henry. They think that, because of your brother, I can't be the leader they need… and they are partially right. I _can't_ be the man I was. I just… can't. But the thing is, all I've done… all I'll have to do… it's not about Henry – not _just_ about Henry, anyway. It's…"

"Because of what happened to Damian", someone said.

Bruce stood up slowly, removing his sunglasses and turning to look at Superman – Clark Kent, actually. There he was, dressed in a light-blue suit and wearing those goofy glasses, staring at Bruce with his hands in his pants pockets, looking as ordinary as one could be.

"What are you doing here?" Clark's intrusion angered him a bit, though not nearly as much as he thought it should have. He had been eavesdropping in a very private conversation, if there ever was one, and Bruce recognized he should be furious. "You shouldn't…"

"I know", Clark quickly agreed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to listen, and I only caught those last words… I can't help my super-hearing, sometimes."

"That's no excuse."

"No. No, it isn't." He lowered his glance. "I apologize."

Bruce realized why he wasn't as enraged as he ordinarily would be: he was curious about Superman's visit, and pleasantly surprised. After all that had happened during their last meeting, he would have never guessed that Clark would look for him so soon. Eventually, yes; the next day? He never thought Clark would defy Diana's wishes so promptly. Because much of what had happened came to that, didn't it? To Wonder Woman's wounded pride, for Bruce's disregard for her previous relation with Steve Trevor. In the end of the day, he thought that Diana believed Trevor, in a strange way, _belonged_ to her, and she should be consulted before anyone of the Justice League's members made a move that would affect him.

A good example of Diana's naïveté – she just didn't seem to understand that A.R.G.U.S. and Amanda Waller were way bigger than just a governmental agency to deal with League.

"Other than overhearing things that are not your concern… what are you doing here?"

"I wanted to talk."

"Obviously."

Superman grinned. "Don't be so harsh… I'm still your friend, you know?"

"Could have fooled me, the way you acted up there."

"Bruce." The smile was gone. "I stood up for you. I was by your side…"

"You didn't step up, Clark. You quietly watched while we talked, and only spoke when you couldn't avoid the situation anymore."

"What would you have me do, Bruce?" He frowned. "You didn't make the job of those trying to defend you any easier, I hope you know that."

"I don't need anyone to _defend_ me, Clark. I told you, I was thinking about leaving anyway…"

"Were you? Or are you too proud to accept that you might have been rejected? Perhaps it's the Batman-can-do-no-wrong aphorism talking…?"

"At least I _talk_", he groaned.

"And that's why I didn't need to do that on your behalf."

"Didn't _want_, you mean… I understand, Clark", he bitterly added. "You wouldn't want to stay between your friend and your _girlfriend_, right?"

"I was, anyway. Diana has yet to forgive me…"

"Oh, does she?" His tone was pure resentment.

Clark lowered his eyes to the ground, frowning as he did. When he spoke, he did it in an uncharacteristically poignant tone:

"She's going through a rough time, Bruce." He raised those extraordinarily bright blue eyes to stare at Bruce. "That's why I'm here."

"I hope you're not trying to justify what she did… all the things she said to me…" Bruce suddenly halted, unable to speak more without allowing his anger surface through his voice.

"She did say horrible things", Clark agreed. "But I don't think she… she even realizes."

"C'mon, Clark…"

"Bruce", Superman abruptly interrupted him, his expression heavy with sorrow. "She was pregnant too."

Words quickly disappeared, silence taken the already quiet cemetery. _Pregnant?_, Bruce considered. _When was Diana pregnant?_ And, more importantly… the fact that she _had been_ pregnant… and wasn't anymore. It was obvious in Clark's eyes, as in his grief-stricken features, that this pregnancy was no more.

"I'm sorry", Bruce mumbled.

A sad smile twisted Clark's lips. "Thanks."

"I had no idea…"

"We were discreet", the man that was Superman quickly added. "For the very reason that we didn't know if… if the pregnancy could actually…"

Bruce knew where he was going, but remained silent. There was no need, he believed, to put in words every single disgrace in their lives. He knew it first hand – he would be a much happier man if he could never say the words "my son is dead" again. Even if Damian _was_ dead. Even if didn't change a thing.

"I really _am_ very sorry, Clark."

Superman didn't acknowledge these words; he just shook his head and closed his eyes, speaking in a grave, strenuous tone:

"The child died, Bruce. It just… died. Because it's _my_ child, you know? Because it needs things no human, even a human-god like Diana, can provide. It just got weaker, and weaker, and weaker… and died."

He chuckled: a hopeless, heart-broking sound.

"It was a girl. I never told Diana, but we would have had a daughter…" He frowned. "I guess we did, didn't we? She died, our daughter, but that doesn't make her less real, does it? She was tiny, almost nothing… but she had a heart. A body. Eyes. Even hands and…"

A single sob came from Clark. A brief sound. Something that had been trapped inside him and contained, hidden from the world and all those around him. The cry he wouldn't allow himself to release. And to that, Bruce could also deeply relate to:

"She existed", he declared. "Your daughter, she was real and she should… she should be mourned."

"Diana doesn't think so", Clark bluntly said. His eyes were tainted by red, but he had regained control of his features. "She says a child never born is no child at all…"

"That's not true."

"It is for her. It's… it's her way to deal with it."

Bruce considered that for a moment. And then:

"I understand."

"Do you?"

Turning back to stare at his son's grave, Bruce said:

"More than I would like to."

XXXXXXXXXXXX

It was almost midnight when she heard the familiar sound of her bedroom's window sliding open, and the light bump noise of his boots on the floor. Sitting on bed, where she had been lying completely awake for the last hour, she greeted him:

"Hey."

He was dressed as Batman, something she understood but hated. When he came by during the day, he would do it in his civilian identity of Bruce Wayne, and usually acted like a regular person: ringing the bell and using the front door. If he visited during the nights, however, he would come as Batman – and it worried her that, for the last week or so, she had rarely seen him out of the uniform.

He knew how she felt, or at least she thought he did; probably why he was now removing his cowl, even as he answered her:

"Hi." He ran his fingers through his hair, then taking off both his gloves. "I thought you would be asleep."

She held her naked legs close to her body, arms around her knees. She was wearing a long-sleeved masculine shirt, one that belonged to Bruce himself. He had forgotten the shirt at her apartment, one of the few personal items he had brought there when he spend the first nights after Henry was born sleeping on her couch. Selina had unceremoniously claimed property over it, telling him it was so comfortable – she didn't mention that the shirt also brought her a strange sense of security, and now she could hardly spend a night away from it. Those details, he didn't have to know.

"I was", she lied. "Just woke up."

He sat on the other side of her bed, removing his cape and boots. In seconds, he was Batman no more: the last touch was how he carefully took off his utility belt, placing it over her nightstand. Now, he was a man dressed in black.

Standing up, he approached the bassinet where Henry slept, lightly stroking the baby's cheek with a finger, then taking his son's small hand between his thumb and index finger.

"And what about him?" He asked with a smile on his face – she wondered if he even _noticed_ that he always smiled when he laid eyes on Henry for the first time every night. "Did he just sleep, or…"

"It's okay", she said in a serene, soft tone. "You can hold him, if you want."

He needed nothing else. Having her permission, Bruce gently took his son from the bassinet, adjusting him in his arms. The baby mumbled and shuddered, his eyes fluttering open for a second and closing again. As Bruce tenderly rocked him, Henry fell deeply asleep with his face buried against his father's chest.

"Amazing", Selina expressed her incredulity. "How do you do that? He always falls asleep so easily when you're holding him…"

He didn't answer her immediately: he was too busy looking at the child in his arms. When he finally spoke, he did so in a whisper:

"I think he recognizes my voice… don't you think?"

She laughed quietly in the darkness. "He does. He really does."

Selina watched as Bruce walked around the room with the baby in his arms, fascinated by that interaction. For all she had seen of Batman - Bruce, actually – so far, she had never pictured a scene like that. To see him passionately holding their child was as bizarre as it was sweet: something that at once touched her and scared her.

She recalled the time of her pregnancy, those longs months in which she didn't quite know what to think of Bruce as a father. She knew all he had told her, of course, about Damian and also about Dick, Tim and Jason. She also had a few glimpses of a different side of him back then: he had been, mostly, very thoughtful and helpful through all those months. But he did so in a very pragmatic, sometimes even distant manner; it was like all was planned and accounted for, and it was hard for her to tell how emotionally invested he was in her pregnancy. She had no _complains_ – but the fact that their relationship was never in stable grounds certainly didn't help their intimacy.

When Henry was born, though, she was pleasantly surprised to see that, regarding their son, at least, Bruce wouldn't hold back in his affection. From day one he had been a caring, loving father, who wanted nothing more than have their son in his arms.

And again, as much as that made her proud and happy, it also scared her. It scared her to know that Bruce – _Batman_ – could care so deeply about someone. As she watched him falling more in love with Henry day by day, she couldn't help but wonder how that could affect him. If Batman was so involved with being a father, could he be Batman at all?

And if he could, than what kind of crime fighter would he be? One that, perhaps, had _too much_ at stake?

"Bruce", she called.

He sat next to her on the bed, Henry comfortably adjusted on the curve of his arm. Even in the dark, she could see he was silently staring at her, waiting for her to speak.

"I was told", she solemnly said, "that you went to Steve Trevor's home."

His features changed: from the warm, caring father, to the coldness that only Batman could display.

"Who told you that?"

"Does it matter?"

He frowned, clearly upset:

"Of course it does!"

She stared at him for a moment, studying those deep, now furious eyes – he wasn't angry at _her_, that much she could tell. But he _was_ angry, and an angry Batman was something not to be trifled with. That was why she carefully considered her words before voicing them:

"I'm not going to tell you _who_, but you know _why_ I was told what happened…"

"To poison you. Put you against me."

It was her turn to show irritation:

"You honestly think I could be so easily manipulated?"

He didn't answer her – in his arms, Henry was grumbling and moving, clearly agitated by their discussion. His attention in his son, Bruce stood up once again, rocking the child and whispering soothing words close to the baby's face.

"I just want to know what's going on, Bruce…"

Silence was all he gave her, still worried about Henry. Selina insisted:

"If you think you're doing this for our sake… please, stop." She too left the bed, and approached him in soft steps. When she was just behind him, she placed a hand on his back, muttering close to his ear. "I can take care of myself, Bruce… and Henry."

She rested her head against his back, hearing the gentle, comforting sounds of his cadenced breath.

"You don't understand", he whispered, his voice a thundering sound reverberating on her ear. "There's so much…"

"There's so much what?"

"_Risk_. Danger."

"I know danger", she answered. "I can deal with it."

He turned to face her, Henry again quietly snoozing in his arms.

"You're amazing", she declared, a smile on her lips as she watched the child. "Here, let me take him…"

Bruce gently passed the baby to Selina, who took him and placed a kiss on the soft skin of his chubby cheek.

"I'll put him in his bed."

However, as she insinuated a step towards the bassinet, he stopped her by softly grabbing her forearm.

"What…?"

He didn't allow her to finish the sentence, suddenly leaning forward and placing a kiss on her hesitant lips.

Unlike their usual interaction in the past, this kiss wasn't eager or abrupt, although obviously unexpected. It was an unruffled, tender gesture, and Selina barely reacted: still holding Henry, all she did was accept his advance, though not actually returning the kiss. As he pulled back from her, she stared at him in surprise:

"Bruce… you shouldn't…"

"I'm sorry", he apologized, a hand rising to move a portion of her dark hair from her face to behind her ear, his palm then making full contact with the warm skin of her face, neck, collarbone. "I know how you feel about this. I just… needed it. But you're right, I shouldn't have. I'm sorry."

She silently moved away from him, placing Henry in his bed and wrapping him in a blanket. Then, she walked back to Bruce:

"What I told you that day? When we brought him home?"

He nodded, well aware of what conversation she referred to.

"I remember."

"It still stands." She placed a hand on the collar of his outfit, pulling him to her. "But this… this is us, trying to work things out."

He barely had a moment to nod in agreement: Selina brought her body closer to his, her soft shirt against his armored uniform, her mouth searching for his.

A kiss. Quiet, gentle, unrushed. His taste, so distinct and pleasurable, so unlike the sweat, worn out man that she was used to. Now, there was nothing of his usual reticence in his actions, no doubt in the way he held her even closer to his body. For Selina, there was a feeling of familiarity in that kiss just as it was also a novelty. Yes, she knew him: how his recently shaved chin felt against her skin, how she had to pull herself up a few inches by standing on her toes to reach him, how he always searched for the nape of her neck with his right hand, his way of gently keep some control of the situation. But there was that new facet, that unprovoked desire, the reassurance in his every move, the serenity. They had never been _serene_. They had never kissed and touched if not with a certain conflict involved.

Now they did, though. In a kiss that wouldn't break, in the way he caressed the skin of her stomach with just the simple stroke of the tip of his fingers. There was no rush, no regrets. For once, there was just they.


	12. Chapter 12

"Oddly enough", Alfred observed one night, "I have a better idea where you wander during nights than during days, Sir."

Bruce didn't answer, merely groaning as Alfred tended a deep gash on his right shoulder – courtesy of an unpleasant encounter with Mr. Zsasz.

"I did go to Miss Kyle's apartment this morning, though", he proceeded, in his ever mannerly tone. "All was fine. Young Henry behaved marvelously, a delightful child. Miss Kyle, however… seem distracted. I was under the impression, the entire time, that there was _someone_ else in the apartment… perhaps snoring soundly in the master bedroom? I'm not sure…"

"Alfred…" Bruce exhaled loudly, a sign of impatience.

"That's perfectly alright, Sir. No need for you to share anything. If you and Miss Kyle are trying to develop a relationship, why tell those that care for you and have been anxiously hoping for something like that to happen? You are right: better keep secretive all that goes on…"

"_Selina_ asked me to keep quiet about it", he explained in an aggravated tone. "There _are_ a lot of expectations about us getting together, especially from… well…"

"Myself? Indeed, Sir. How foolish of me."

"It's just been a couple weeks, Alfred."

"Ah… that long? It's hard to tell. I tend to lose track of time when you are not around, Master Bruce."

Bruce shook his head in exasperation. "She's _unsure_ about our relationship, Alfred."

"I wonder why."

"You're not being very supportive, Alfred."

"I'm sorry, Sir", Alfred said quietly. "Supportive is _all_ I want to be about your relationship with Miss Kyle."

The butler turned to the steel tray next to him, fetching a suture needle to stitch the wound on Bruce's shoulder.

"I already know the answer, but can I persuade you to accept an anesthetic shot for this…?"

"It's just a scratch, Alfred."

"All right", Alfred complied. "And if you ever intend to cut expenses, you can start with the anesthetic ampoules. We hardly use them, anyway…"

Bruce didn't answer, not interested in getting into another discussion with the butler. Alfred was right about the anesthetics, though: Bruce rarely accepted pain relief. Pain was part of the job. Pain was _necessary_. He needed to feel it, understand it, overcome it. And he needed to be reminded, everyday, that he was just that: human. Fallible. Vulnerable.

He should never forget: not _everyone_ had the luxury of invulnerability.

XXXXXXXXXXX

"Oh, my God", Selina mumbled. "I _hate_ this part."

She was at the pediatric office, nervously watching the nurse prepare a vaccine shot for Henry.

"I know", the nurse was saying with a smile, "usually mothers get more upset than the babies…"

"It's just that I _hate_ seeing him in pain…"

"Oh. It's nothing but a slight pinch." She already had the syringe in hand, waiting for Selina to expose Henry's soft thigh.

The baby was sleeping, and barely moved when his mother gently uncovered his legs. The nurse approached:

"Can't watch it…" Selina moaned.

"It will be over in a second…"

Henry winced as the needle entered his tender skin, his face twisting from the sudden, unexpected pain; then, he burst into an agonizing cry, tears falling down his eyes, arms and legs thrusting wildly.

"Now, now", the nurse softly said, "it's okay… it's all over now…"

Selina placed Henry on her shoulder, consoling him by stroking his head and back, kissing his reddish, wet face. "It's okay, Henry…", she whispered, "mommy is here…"

"He's one of those loud babies, isn't he?"

"No", Selina answered, quite abruptly. "He's not, actually."

"Well, he must be tired, then."

"Yeah", Selina blankly agreed, too worried about her son to pay much attention to the nurse. "I guess I'll be going, then… maybe he'll calm down once we get inside the car."

The nurse waved. "Bye, dear."

"Bye."

As Selina left the office, the nurse threw her gloves in the trash. The syringe she had just used to vaccinate Henry, however, she carefully placed in a sealed plastic bag and safely stored in a refrigerated container.

Then, still smiling, she took her cell phone from her pocket: a high tech, unusual device, that a trained eye would recognize as foreign technology. The nurse didn't care about that, of course; she merely hit a single key on the keypad and placed the phone on her ear. In a second, she was already talking:

"It's done", she said, in a tone that was quite different from the gentle voice she used when talking to parents and children.

On the other side of the line, there was only a single, grave answer spoken in a male voice:

"Now, we wait."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

He had just come down to the cave to get ready for patrols when Alfred called him in the intercom:

"Sir?"

"Yes, Alfred."

"Miss Kyle is on the phone", he told him, an unusual hint of concern in his voice. "She sounds troubled."

"Transfer the call", he asked, already feeling apprehensive.

There was an unusual silence as Bruce waited for Selina's voice, nothing but the occasional noises of sleeping bats settling on the high and dark corners of the cave. Then:

"Bruce."

His name spoken by her already suggested her uneasiness, palpable anxiety in one single word.

"What's the matter?" He struggled to keep his coolness, knowing that anything other than that would only make the situation worst.

"Could you come over?" There was a nervous pause. "_Now_?"

On the background, he could hear Henry's insistent howl, in an urgency that he had never witnessed in his son's cry.

"On my way", he immediately answered. Selina, on the other side, didn't even say a goodbye – she hung up, clearly disturb by whatever was going on with the baby.

Bruce stood still for a moment, a cascade of thoughts flooding his mind. He knew he shouldn't allow himself to surrender to that: fear. The cold sensation in his stomach, the oppressive feeling that now clutched his chest and slowed his mind. He couldn't submit. Submission meant paralyses, and that was what he experimented then – an inability to think clearly and act. And he _had_ to act.

His son needed him.

"Alfred", he said through the intercom, his voice a hoarse, strange sound.

"Yes, sir. Are you going to Miss Kyle's…?"

"I am. I won't be able to patrol tonight, I think."

"I'll warn the others."

"Thank you, Alfred." He drew a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "Just in case, Alfred… call Leslie Thompkins. Ask her to…"

"I beg your pardon, Sir… but I already did. She's on her way to Miss Kyle's place at this very moment."

That brought a cheerless smile to Bruce's lips.

"Thank you, Alfred."

"Don't waste another second with me, Sir. Just go – the Porsche is parked outside."

Acting in an uncharacteristic manner, Bruce did as he was told.

XXXXXXXXXX

Bruce entered Selina's apartment to find her sat on the sofa, Henry in her arms, apprehension and weariness in her features as she tried to feed a screaming baby that refused to take her breast.

"He won't eat", she announced the second he opened the door, her face a mask of distress.

Not far from her, on her phone, Dr. Leslie Thompkins spoke – she was reciting symptoms and rubbing her forehead with a hand as she walked from one side of the living room to another, a gesture that denounced her uneasiness.

"Yes, yes, red spots, but nothing like I have ever seen… no, no fever so far."

Bruce registered that, knowing she couldn't be referring to anyone else but Henry. That cleared any doubts he might have: his son was sick, and _seriously_ sick.

He joined Selina on the couch, she still trying to force her sore nipple into the child's mouth. The baby, however, cried non-stop, moving his flushed, dark red face from side to side. His little hands were tightly closed in fists, and he thrust both arms and legs violently, in a fit of rage that was beyond any infant of that age should be able to accomplish. His features were transfigured, unrecognizable, and Bruce wondered if a child so young could actually lose his sanity – if there was such a thing for babies, he believed his son was on the verge of experimenting it.

"This is going on for _hours_", Selina confessed, though her confession came out more like a painful moan than like actual words.

Bruce's first thought was that she should have called him sooner, but he didn't voice his observation: she was already so upset, and another layer of censure was the last thing she needed. That's why he merely nodded, and allowed her to talk:

"He won't eat, he won't sleep, he won't…" She sobbed, tears misting her emerald eyes. "I don't know what's wrong, I don't know…"

"Here", he quickly said, taking Henry from her arms – something she accepted without protest.

The moment he took his son, Bruce felt the insidious hand of panic touch him. He immediately felt the infant's tense body, the shivering that shook his tiny limbs, the fear in his screams. It was suddenly remarkably patent to him that Henry was in _pain_, in deep pain, and probably had been for hours. The baby was terrified, inconsolable, and suffering. And Bruce knew that there was little he could do for his son at that moment.

Leslie approached them, already off the phone, and her features translated a similar feeling of confusion.

"I'm sorry, Selina." She placed a hand on Selina's shoulder, who was now hiding her face on her hands, elbows supported on her knees. "The pediatrician – Dr. Homer, one of my colleagues – can't help much over the phone. He suggested…"

"We go to the hospital." It was Bruce speaking, already standing up with Henry in his arms, the baby yelling continuously.

"Yes", Leslie agreed, apparently not noticing that Bruce hadn't made a question, but actually decided in a course of action. "He recommended we take Henry to the E.R.. He might need a few tests for us to determine…"

"Selina", Bruce called, indifferent to the fact he had just abruptly interrupted Leslie; he cared only for the fact that his son was in agony, and that Selina was sat immobile on the couch, apparently unable to move. "C'mon. We need to go."

He wished he could sound gentler, but his own uneasiness made that difficult. An uneasiness that just grew as he realized that Selina stared at him in sternly, tears running down her cheeks in perfect trails from the corner of her eyes to the tip of her chin.

"He's sick", she said, "he's really sick, isn't he?"

"We don't know that", Leslie tried to console her.

"I _do_ know", Selina insisted. Then, turning to face Bruce. "You do too."

"We should go", he merely said.

Selina didn't offer resistance to that: she too stood up, rubbing the tears out of her face with the back of her hands. She walked to Henry's bedroom and brought his diaper bag, just as Bruce grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around the baby. To his deep dismay, he had to forcefully hold his son against his chest, in an effort to keep him from removing the blanket around him with his desperate and senseless kicks and punches.

"It's alright, Henry, it's alright…", he vainly whispered to his son.

As they reached the elevators in the hall, Selina grabbed Bruce's arm:

"Tell me the truth", she asked.

"About what?" He looked at Selina, noticing she had managed to snap out of her state of inert misery.

"About _this_", she hissed.

Suddenly, in his arms, Henry silenced. Abruptly. And in such an unexpected way that Bruce knew, he just _knew_ that it wasn't a good thing – and he was right.

In his arms, his son was having a seizure.


	13. Chapter 13

There were tubes, and needles, and wires, and monitors, and Henry's cries.

During that first seizure – others had followed -, Bruce had felt helpless and confused, holding his son in his arms and realizing that something so bad was happening to him… and he, the father of that child, the man who was Batman, had no idea how to fix it. He had to ask Leslie for _help_, and was so very grateful that she was there.

Watching his son convulsing, and then vomiting, and finally losing consciousness… was beyond words. The terror. The fear. Selina's horrified expression, her perplexity, and the way she looked at him… asking, _begging_ for an answer…

That, he couldn't do.

He drove them through traffic to the closest hospital, his hands trembling as he grabbed the steering wheel fiercely, trying to ignore the fact that Henry, now in Selina's arms, had another seizure, and then another. His own heart raced wildly, and he wasn't able to _speak_, not a word, his voice gone, and Selina gasped through her sobs… _no, no_, she said, her voice a painful whisper, _please, please, make it stop…_

It didn't stop.

They ran through the emergency room, Leslie guiding them, Henry in Selina's arms as she just couldn't let him go. And when they placed him on one of the gurneys to be examined, removing the child's clothes and blankets, Bruce was shocked to see his son's body now taken by dark red spots, a rash so violent that were almost ulcers, covering the boy's chest and back completely, and now reaching his limbs.

And Henry cried furiously, now conscious again, throwing up once more. His babyish voice was now a hoarse, unpleasant sound, and his eyes… his eyes begged and pleaded, every time they met Bruce's. His son _begged_ him for help. A tortured little child, in so much pain, so much fear. Begging for relief.

There were doctors, mostly perplex and puzzled doctors, and each intervention they offered meant only more pain and torment: needles, blood, catheters, liquid drawn from the baby's spine. Selina crying as Henry howled in agony, the boy too exhausted to produce more than a tired, defeated wail. His son's pure, honest suffering, now hopeless and confused. Could an infant place blame for his misery?, Bruce wondered. If he could, he would certainly be blaming his parents, wouldn't he? Perhaps questioning why no one would help him, tend to his needs, make the pain go away.

Because he was in pain, and just the thought of it was enough to make Bruce feel his stomach revolve. As Batman, Bruce knew pain – not only he had felt it on several occasions, all kinds of pain, but he had delivered it to countless victims… people who deserved it, he always believed. Bad people, and the pain was a way of scaring them, make them talk, make them _pay_ for something terrible they had done. So, yes, he knew _pain_. Too well.

And seeing it in his baby son, it was the most awful sight he had ever witnessed.

At one point, one of the doctors approached Selina and him, and gently asked if they would allow Henry to be sedated. _Heavily_ sedated – a procedure that wasn't without risks.

"If it's dangerous", Selina pondered, his voice a faint sound, her face wet in tears and sweat, her eyes swollen and reddish, "perhaps we shouldn't…"

"We'll do it", Bruce firmly asserted.

"Bruce!" Her censure was obvious, but he ignored it.

"We'll sign the papers", he insisted.

The doctor nodded and left them to settle it by themselves. Selina, of course, was now enraged:

"I won't sign anything, Bruce! The doctor said it's dangerous, he might never wake up again!"

Again the nausea. He thought he could leave her talking by herself and run to the bathroom, get rid of the nothingness in his stomach, perhaps avoid that awful sensation. Instead, he turned to Selina and held her by both her forearms, way more roughly than he intended to:

"He's in _pain_, Selina!"

There was nothing. Nothing in her features.

"Henry is suffering", he said, regaining control of his tone. Still too loud, perhaps, certainly in a trembling, hoarse voice… but better. Better than snapping; better than yelling. He managed to lose the grip around her arms a bit, his fingers not pressing her soft skin. "It's too much for him to handle."

Tears took her eyes again, a heavy, thick wave that overflowed quickly and ran down in multiple veils across her face. As she spoke, though, she sounded much more controlled:

"Too much for _him_ to handle, Bruce? Or _you_?"

"I don't want to lose him, Selina, just like you. But…"

He stopped. He couldn't _say_ it.

She did it, though:

"But if he _dies_… that's what you were going to say, wasn't it?"

She took a step back, away from him, away from his touch.

"You think he's going to _die_, Bruce?"

Selina's eyes were so remarkably penetrating, cunning – there was no way she wouldn't be able to see through a lie. And yet, he lied anyway:

"No. No, I don't think he's going to die."

She crossed her arms over her chest, her mouth a tense line that denounced her stubbornness.

"It's too risky… sedate him, it's…"

"He's in agony, Selina."

"Don't say that."

He felt, for a moment, something close to despair. The truth was, there was no gentle way of making Selina realize that what Henry was going through was way worst than she thought.

"I have to say it", he insisted. "It's the truth."

She raised both hands to her head, then covering her face. "No. No… I can't… I can't…"

He pulled her to him again, now to hold her in a tight, nervous embrace. "Please", he whispered. "Trust me."

She did.

An hour later Henry was in the NICU, sedated, monitored. Bad news kept following: fever, irregular breathing, irregular heartbeat. Kidneys not working right. His brain seemed to be swallowing, might even be hemorrhaging. No one would say it, not in so many words, and they wouldn't ask, but it was pretty clear: the child probably wouldn't make it through the night.

And no one knew why.

No one, except, maybe, for Bruce.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

For all effects, he really _had_ left the Justice League.

That didn't mean he had to stop monitoring the Watchtower, though. Or abandon his teleporting privileges. Hadn't been Wayne Enterprises the most generous benefactor of the League?

Leave his son, that was the hardest part – it had always been, hadn't it? But it was Selina's warm hand on his, as he watched their baby lying helpless in a hospital crib, that did the trick.

"If you have any ideas, any way of helping him…"

Her touch – their fingers tangled together, her face close to his, her lips softly brushing his shoulder.

"I'm not sure", he mumbled.

"If there's a chance… the slightest chance…"

Closing his eyes, he sighed. "This… this thing that is happening to him… I think I saw it before."

Selina's eyes filled with hope – exactly what he feared it would happen. Because if not only he lost his son, but also _disappointed_ her… gave her a false hope…

"Bruce. If there's something out there that could…"

"You don't understand", he interrupted her. "I think I have seen this… this _disease_. Not a cure. Never a cure."

She shook her head in vehement denial. "No. No, there must be… there must be a way to _help_ him. If it's a disease…"

"Not a regular disease." He rubbed his eyes with a hand before speaking again, exhaustion overrunning his body and numbing his mind. "An _alien_ disease."

"What' you talking about…? Henry was never _close_ to anything like that, he's just a baby…!"

She was right – this wasn't something that could have simply infected a child, not in a regular way. Which meant that something or someone had purposely done it. And if there was a way of contaminating people… there might be a way to avoid it. Cure it. Because someone had _worked _in that, developed, turned it into a weapon. Deliberately.

"If we just had more _time_."

"Then don't wait", she simply stated.

He turned to her, gently kissing her forehead. "If I'm wrong…"

"He's not going to die, Bruce." She closed her eyes, her long, dark eyelashes suddenly so obvious when in contrast to her paleness. "He _can't_."

_But he can_, he couldn't help thinking. _Like Damian did._

She was oblivious to that, of course. She knew about Damian, he had told her – but there was no way for her to understand what that loss meant to him, no way she could actually accept that something as bad as that could be happening to _their_ son. Bruce knew it. He even sympathized.

He was having a hard time accepting it himself.

"We are going to wait for you", she reassured him. "And Henry is not going… he's just _not_." She took his hand to her face, his palm in full contact to her soft cheek. "You'll find a way, Bruce. I know you will."

Those words followed him, printed in his mind as he left the hospital and reached his car. He had one of his spare, simplest uniforms hid in the Porsche – for now, it had to be enough. Besides, it had the only thing he needed now:

His League portable teleporter.

Once he was dressed, he simply pressed the random code that had been established just hours before – yet another safety lock he had created himself once the entire teleporting system was built. Along with it, he typed the usual code that would block the alarm. In a fraction of a second, he suddenly was once again at the Watchtower.

Silence and darkness. He recognized the usual security protocols, overrunning them with his emergency codes. He had never told his fellow justice leaguers, but he had never given up his access privileges to the satellite or their systems. Cyborg, however, had deleted many of his safety guards and blocked most of his database access, probably trying to avoid Batman's interference or surveillance in their internal system. One very annoying problem, that caused trouble for Batman to use the Watchtower's system from his private computers in the cave.

Though he didn't think there would be a problem for him to hack into it now that he was up there.

He went to the control room, founding it empty and dark. A few lights blinked on the dashboards, and most of the monitors were on – the system was never shut down. It was no surprise for him to see the place was empty, and that actually made things easier for him, but he also felt a slight hint of sadness: they hadn't kept the monitor duty schedule.

Batman ran to the computer and begun typing furiously. Time was against him, and he had much work to do. He started by breaking the system's protections and firewalls, that Cyborg had certainly programmed. Victor was a living computer, the most capable computer prodigy in the planet, but he was still just a kid. A good kid. What he had in talent, though, he lacked in malice. It wouldn't occur to Victor that Bruce had thought of ways to hack into the Watchtower system even before it was built.

In two minutes Batman was navigating the Justice League's database, and looking for something very specific. It was clear to him, now; now, that he had had a moment away from his son, and was able to think of something other than his child's suffering. Because it was just that: Henry's strange illness, that thing that tried to claim his life…

Bruce had seen it before. He was sure.

He used a simple program designed by himself, that quickly searched for references regarding the few words he typed. In a second, files piled up on the screen; he scrolled down and selected a few of them, planning on reading them in search for the information he needed, but he was abruptly interrupted:

"Bruce", he heard, a feminine and familiar voice coming from behind him.

_Not her_, he privately thought, already turning. The fact he had missed her unsubtle presence until she was able to reach the very room he was in could certainly be a sign that he was dangerously distracted. Despite that, he managed to speak in an emotionless, controlled tone:

"Hello, Diana."

"Don't treat me like an idiot, Bruce. We both know you shouldn't be here."

She had a hand on her lasso already, and her expression translated anger – also a slight hint of fear. _She's alone, then_, he concluded. That wasn't exactly what he would call good, but it was better than if there was someone like Arthur or Victor there. Even Clark – sometimes he wondered if Superman realized how much his presence affected Diana's ability to think clearly.

"I'll leave in a minute", Batman quickly answered her, a behavior that was strangely meek for him; he hoped she wouldn't notice.

"Not before you tell me _why_ you're here." She stared at him in her penetrating, violet gaze. "It must be serious, isn't it? The reason that brought you here…"

"Like I said, you don't have to worry; it's not League's business."

"This means what? That it's _personal_?" She frowned. "Then you _really_ shouldn't be here."

He shook his head in disapproval. Turning back to type on the computer and save a few files, he actively ignored her – that could go well or very wrong, depending on her mood.

"How come you still have your teleporting device?"

The question actually brought him relief; she _was_ in a good disposition, then. And if so, it was better to keep her like that and acknowledge her inquiry.

"No one ever asked it back."

"Did we have to? You were the one that decided to leave…"

Never turning from his work in the computer, Batman reacted to that with just a snort of despise; she didn't take that lightly:

"Don't be cynical. In the end of the day, you were the one that decided on that. Batman can't be in a team if not to lead it, isn't that right…?"

"I have no time for this nonsense."

"You don't? No time to speak to your fellow in arms, but time enough to invade our quarters and hack into our system…" Her tone was bitter. "We were friends once. You could have just _asked_ for help, Bruce."

He didn't answer her. On the screen ahead, he looked at several pictures and formulas, thinking he might have just found what he needed. And, apparently, his discovery didn't escape Diana either:

"Why are you looking into David Graves' files?" She frowned and took a step closer to the computer, standing next to Batman. "Did he escape prison, or…"

"It's nothing like that." He selected more information and filtered it.

"Then what is it?" There was a flash of concern in her eyes. "Did something happen to Steve…? Graves…"

"No", he quickly interrupted her. Her reaction was no surprise: David Graves had been an opponent that had tried to get to League by attacking Trevor, something that had been a personal blow to Diana. No wonder she thought about him as she realized he was searching information about Graves – she couldn't know that he was actually looking for data concerning the _disease_ that had claimed Graves' family.

She stared at him quietly, her features showing an expression he knew too well: she was evaluating him, much like she evaluated her opponents and battles. It also meant she was finally starting to understand.

"Who's sick, Bruce?"

"No one you know."

"You mean, no one I _care_ about." Her voice came in a softer tone. "But you do."

He held his breath, still trying to focus on his most critical task – he also hoped she wouldn't insist on knowing more. He just wasn't prepared, _ready_ to talk about what was going on with his son.

She must have sensed it, his reluctance; it was the only possible explanation for what came next.

"Bruce", she said, eyes looking down to her clasped hands, "Clark told you, didn't he?"

Silence was his answer.

"I know he did", she insisted. "He told you about our daughter."

There was no question there.

"And he told _me_ you didn't know it was a girl…"

"I knew", she said. "I've dreamed about her. Several times."

"Diana", he gravely said, stopping with the typing and turning to face her. "I'm very sorry for your loss. Very. But, right now, I can't… I can't do this. We could try this later, but _now_… now, I have to deal with something… vital."

"I know", she agreed. "And I think I can help."


	14. Chapter 14

He looked at the clock in his nightstand: nearly three in the morning.

"C'mon, Steve…", he told himself, "go back to sleep."

Easy to say, hard to do – he could _also_ tell himself that. He had been awake for almost an hour now, and had barely slept for an hour before that. Insomnia. His newest little problem.

He had always had trouble to sleep, ever since his first days in the battlefield. No man could ever have a good night of sleep after killing people and having them trying to kill you, right? And if that wasn't bad enough, he had so many more reasons to rob him of a peaceful night. Death, destruction, war, overwhelming creatures and their amazing powers… yeah. He had concluded long ago that this damn world was just too awful and dangerous for a man like him to ever believe in happy endings ever again.

So, the pills: he had started with them long ago. All kinds of pills. There were bad pills, that just changed him. There were worst pills, that made him slow and numb. And then, there were the not-that-bad-at-all pills, that could, if used wisely, give him a few straight hours of sleep. The only problem was, when the pills worked right, they didn't do it for too long. Soon enough he would be facing _this_ again: sleepless nights, not much that could fix it.

Steve sat on his bed, darkness around him. He hated the dark. Always had, as a kid, and he could remember his father scowling him for that: _grow up, Steve_, he would say. Like growing up would cure him of this fear. Oh, well, newsflash, dad! It hadn't. He was all grown up, and he still _hated_ the darkness.

He left his bed, facing the coldness in his apartment while wearing just his underwear and a sleeves shirt. Damn heater, it never worked right. No doubt that the cold _also_ didn't help him sleep… he wondered if people in tropical islands slept better. He thought that _he_ certainly would. Perhaps, when he finally retired, he would buy that little cottage near a warm beach and spend his nights listening to the ocean sing. That would be nice. If you were not sleeping, then you could at least do it while listening to the waves, instead of traffic.

Reaching his small kitchen, Steve poured himself a glass of water. When he was a kid, and had a nightmare, he remembered his mother giving him milk. Warm milk, much like he imagined a tropical night could be. The taste of that milk, its comforting effect… just a memory, now. His mother had been dead for a while, like his father. The house of his childhood, gone. And that naïve idea that things, _everything_, would eventually be okay…

_Completely_ gone.

The world sucked in a thousand different ways, and that was the whole truth, he thought while drinking his water. People dressed in strange outfits and flew around, and had built-in powers that could exterminate several hundreds of people in seconds. That was what the world had come to. And he, he was in the middle of that, dealing with the deeply unwanted responsibility of leading superpowered kids to handle issues like that. Oh, how he wanted, longed for ignorance… if he had just decided to not enlist, if he had just, long ago, settled for an ordinary life…

There was a knock on his front door.

"What the heck…?"

Freaking three A.M.. Who would be knocking on his door at this hour?

Although, he considered as he walked to answer the door, stranger things had happened to him before. _Way_ stranger, actually.

"Who's there?", he asked.

"Steve", answered that feminine, musical, wonderful voice. "It's me."

He blanked for a second; just _blanked_. His mind stopped working, his body was paralyzed – shocked. All he registered was this: it was Diana. _Diana_. Knocking on his door. For how long had he been dreaming about this? How many times had he envisioned that?

And, more importantly: was that some sort of trick?

"Steve?" The voice insisted. "Are you there?"

He didn't answer. Reaching for the closet next to him, he retrieved one of his pistols. Nothing that would be useful against Diana, of course, but he had no intention of using against her. If it was someone _posing_ as her, however…

Turning the lock, he opened the door just a few inches, enough to look through it and see that indeed it was Diana standing on the hall. She wasn't dressed as Wonder Woman, but in simpler garments: dark washed jeans, a black blouse, high heel boots. No coat. She didn't need coats.

"Hey", he mumbled, barely audible. He was suddenly over conscious about what _he_ was wearing: underpants.

"May I come in?" The question was made in a gentle tone.

Steve gazed briefly at the gun in his hand, concealed behind the door. He slid the door open a few more inches as he stepped back and placed his pistol on the shelf he kept his keys.

"Sure", he agreed. "Come in."

She did, walking graciously inside his untidy apartment. He had never been one to care much about cleaning up his place, or having a right place for everything, but he was a soldier. A certain discipline and organization skills were necessary, and he had never had a problem with that. In the last months, however, he hadn't been able to even take care of the basics. Every once in a while he would get rid of the old pizza boxes and Chinese food containers, and that was that. His sister came every month or so to vacuüm, but other than those very basic things, his place was a mess. His small living room, where Diana now stood, had a couch that was taken by unfolded laundry, and his coffee table had newspapers and magazines all over it. He was embarrassed to notice that the great majority of them had pictures of Diana on it.

If the princess noticed, she didn't show. Her expression showed concern, but he was pretty sure that feeling had nothing to do with him – as usual. He couldn't remember when was the last time he had secured a spot in Diana's mind.

"What can I do for you, Diana?"

She didn't answer him immediately. Her beautiful eyes went from her boots to the ceiling, and then to Steve:

"I'm so sorry to come like this, in the middle of the night. I wouldn't have done it if it wasn't urgent."

"I know", he agreed. And it was the truth. She was strangely formal and polite, and to come to him like that, interrupting his sleep – she hadn't, but no doubt she _believed_ she had – meant that it was urgent indeed.

"I need your help, Steve."

He couldn't help but frown. _She_ needed _his_ help? What world was that, where a superpowered woman – _the_ most powerful woman in the world, actually – needed his assistance?

"Tell me what I can do for you", he simply stated, shrugging in pretense indifference. _Yeah, Steve,_he privately reprimanded himself, _act like you've got all figure out… embarrass yourself a little more. Like she doesn't know you…_

"David Graves", she solemnly said.

Graves. _Oh_,_ shit_, he cursed. David Graves. The maniac that had attacked Steve, former successful writer that had lost his family to a strange, undetermined disease, and got crazy because of that. So many unpleasant things about _David Graves_. Why the hell would she wanted to know anything about goddamned Graves…?

"I know he's in A.R.G.U.S. custody", Diana declared.

Steve crossed his arms and shook his head in denial. "No, Diana. He's not. He's in Belle Reve…"

"Amanda Waller runs Belle Reve. _And_ A.R.G.U.S.."

"Yeah." He agreed. "I know. But Graves has nothing to do with A.R.G.U.S.. He has no real power or talent now other than writing, and all I know is that he's working on a new book. That's _all_."

"Steve, please", she asked, a hand raised as an offer of peace. "I'm not here to discuss minor details."

"_Why_ are you here?"

"Because I need to know who has been working on developing a bio-weapon using the disease that killed Graves' family."

Steve couldn't help but chuckle. "Diana, c'mon… you don't actually believe… I mean, I don't think that's even _possible_…"

"It's possible", she firmly asserted. "It's happening right now."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean…" She hesitated. "You do know about Selina Kyle's child, don't you?"

"Yes, yes, of course…" He finally understood. "He's sick. Her baby."

She nodded in agreement.

"And you think it's the same disease Graves and his family had…?"

Again she moved her head to consent.

"I see", Steve gravely said.

"We think someone might have synthesized this… virus? I don't know if it's a virus, bacteria, or what could be…"

"_Batman_ sent you here, didn't he?"

"Steve, no. Don't turn that episode into a personal vendetta that could drag for years and years…"

"Really, Diana?" He couldn't contain his fury, his words hissed through clenched teeth that reminded him again of the constant pain in his jaw. "Really? Are you going to try to dismiss this… how did you call it? Oh, yeah, 'episode'…! You'll treat that 'episode' like it was nothing but a little argument we could easily put behind us?"

"Steve…"

"He broke my jaw! I have _wires_ holding it together! He handcuffed me and beat me, Diana!"

"I know", she said, the sternness in her voice standing out on Steve's ears. He knew her – not too well, but better than most people –, and that tone showed that she wasn't taking his angry speech lightly. "All this, I know. And Batman will have his turn."

"I won't hold my breath on it."

"I don't care what you think, Steve. I'm a person that values my honor and my promises." Her eyes watched him intensely. "If I say that Batman will have his chance to pay for what he did, he will."

"And _you_ will make sure he does…? Forgive my skepticism, but I find this hard to believe. And, honestly, there are things that a man rather does himself than have others do for him."

"I understand."

He didn't answer. It was obvious that the conversation was going nowhere pleasant or fruitful.

"I also understand", she proceeded, "that no child should pay for his father's crime. Isn't that your law?"

"Yes", he agreed. "And I'm pretty sure that whatever is going on with Selina's kid has nothing to do with what happened between Batman and me."

"I know." She nodded. "But I hope that what happened doesn't prevent you from helping me."

He sighed, knowing that he was about to do yet another thing he would regret for years to come:

"What can I do for you?"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Selina dozed off while holding Henry's little hand.

She woke up minutes later to the nervous sounds of an alarm.

It took her a few seconds to get hold of the reality around her; by then, there was already a swarm of doctors and nurses around Henry's crib, moving his little body in a frantic manner.

"What's going on?" She asked this out loud, again and again. No one seemed to be listening to her.

They were injecting her baby with things, and sliding tubes through his throat, and soon they were massaging his chest. Like when he was born.

Like when they had almost lost him.

"What is _going on_?" She repeated that louder, and there was a realization in the back of her mind that she was screaming those words. Not that she cared, anyway.

She felt hands touching her, cold hands, and noticed that one of the nurses, an older woman, was gently pulling her out of the NICU. Selina understood that, and hated that. She fought the woman, and she saw herself yelling. Strange, agonizing screams, that barely seemed human, and certainly didn't sound familiar to her own ears.

But yes, they belonged to her. To the terrified her, to the mother that could only see her child slipping away, away, far away, to the unreachable away.

The nurse sat her down, her trembling, wrecked carcass – that was how she felt, nothing but a shell overflowing with despair. There were tears and howls, and so much fear. Through the glass, the doctors tended to her son. Her baby son. That frail creature, and now she felt like she had failed him in an unforgiving way.

_I was a bad mother_, she thought. _I did this to him… Bruce was right, I couldn't protect him by myself. I failed him…_

_You did nothing but love him_, a strange, hollow, yet familiar voice spoke into her mind.

"J'onn", she whispered, looking around her.

"Here", she heard.

The nurse. The nurse that had pulled her out of the room. Now standing close to Selina, her ancient features taken by grief.

"Oh, J'onn", she moaned, barely able to speak even those simple words.

He – still the nurse – placed a hand over her trembling shoulder. "Be strong, Selina. It's not over yet."

She hid her face on her palms, wondering for how long J'onn's words would be true.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Although it was over four o'clock in a Saturday night, Colonel Steve Trevor found A.R.G.U.S.' Director Amanda Waller in her office, studying an unbelievable amount of files that piled up on her desk and all around the floor.

"Colonel Trevor", she said as he entered the room, expressing her surprise to him being there by merely raising her left eyebrow. "To what I own this unexpected visit? You're not on call today."

No, he wasn't, Steve privately admitted. But once you get involved with the superhero world, there are no vacation days or free time, as he had been again reminded. Which didn't mean he wasn't tired and in a bad mood, things that no doubt were partially responsible for the bluntness in his question:

"Did you know about the kid?"

"The kid?"

He sat on the chair directly in front of Amanda's seat.

"Don't play dumb. You know what I'm talking about."

"What I _know_ is that you could be talking about several things." She seemed upset by his rudeness. It was strange, but Steve had already realized Waller was strangely fond of good manners.

"Damn, Amanda…!" Steve took a deep breath, trying to regain his coolness. "Selina's kid! The baby! He's…"

"Seriously ill, yes."

"You already knew, then."

"As you so kindly pointed out."

There was a moment of silence. Colonel Trevor broke it:

"Do you have _any_ ideas about how it happened?"

Leaning on the back of her chair, arms crossed over her chest, she austerely watched Steve. "I might", she finally answered.

Trevor frowned – that was actually unexpected. He had promised Diana he would do his homework, ask Waller about it, search A.R.G.U.S.' database and talk to a few science men; he never thought he would, in fact, get an easy answer.

"Well? Do you _know_ what happened to the child? Who did it…?"

"I don't." She bit her lower lip. "But I do have people closely watching the situation, and a team is working in a possible solution."

"A _solution_? Are you kidding me? Do you have a _cure…_?"

"No. No, we don't." She shrugged. "Not _yet_, anyway."

"Waller." Colonel Trevor spoke gravely, making sure his tone and eyes reflected the weightiness he saw in the situation and the seriousness of his intentions. "If you know of a way to help Selina's kid, you must tell me _now_. I might be many things, but I'm not yet capable of risking a child's life just to be able to bargain with his father, no matter if he is the biggest son of a bitch in the whole super powered world…"

"Calm down, Steve… we are on the same page here."

"Are we?"

"Yes. Listen: six months ago we got very disturbing news that LexCorp…"

"Oh, no…"

"Yes." She nodded, barely acknowledging Trevor's discontentment. "LexCorp developed a bio-weapon that was disturbingly similar to the disease that took Graves' family and almost killed him."

"The illness we had no idea where it had come from?"

"We had an idea. Apokolips, isn't that the name of the place that attacked us six years ago?"

"But we didn't know what caused it, or if there was a way to cure it…"

"We still don't; but maybe LexCorp figured it out."

Steve rubbed a hand across his chin, wondering if that was good news or very bad news. He said:

"Did you talk to Luthor about it?"

"He's not talking."

"He didn't talk to me."

Amanda smiled.

"Really, Steve? The man is not intimidated by Superman… do you think _you_ could scare him?"

"Don't underestimate my powers of persuasion, Waller."

"I don't", she said, still smiling. "But I honestly don't think Lex knows anything useful. He's been in jail for quite a while, and he has no interest in this kid. Superman is what he's always after, and there isn't much else that is worth his time."

"Even in prison, he knows everything that happens inside that company."

"Indeed. And that's why he's _very_ upset…"

"Because someone _stole_ from him."

"Exactly."

Waller never failed in surprise him, Steve realized. As usual, she seemed to have all the answers – still, there was something missing, something that he couldn't quite grasp, but that brought him a strange feeling of uneasiness.

"Did Lex mention", Trevor asked, "if there was an antidote, even a cure that could help the baby…?"

"LexCorp doesn't work in _cures_, Steve. They were making a _weapon_. A deadly weapon." She waved towards the door with a hand. "I have people working on that right now. Our best men."

"Alright", he nodded slowly. "If they make any progress, please, let me now."

"Will do", she agreed. "Now, if you'll excuse me…"

"Sure", he said, already standing up. "I'll be in my office."

Amanda didn't move, at least not until Steve left the room, the Colonel watching her covertly. No matter all they had already gone through together, he would _never_ trust her. She knew no boundaries. She had no scrupulous. She was a creature to _always_ be feared.

As he reached his private office, he closed and locked the door, then sitting quietly on his desk. He reached for his pocket, taking the device Diana had given him: one of the famous and rare Com-links the League used. It wasn't too different from a smart phone, though much lighter and smaller. On the touch screen, he typed:

"_Metropolis. LexCorp. Hurry up."_

He thought for a second. And then, he finished the message:

"_Please, be careful."_

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Amanda sat quietly on her desk, waiting for the door of her office to close behind Colonel Trevor. As it did, she sighed.

Trevor was a good soldier, perhaps the best they had. A.R.G.U.S. certainly needed a man like him, and the JLA needed him even more. Still, it was quite annoying how his behavior could be so erratic, especially when the Amazon was involved.

She took her phone, connecting to her private network in Belle Reve. There, she accessed her communicator, speaking immediately after the connection was established:

"Lawton", she called, using her most imperative tone.

"I hear you, Waller." The man answering her sounded anything but pleased to hear from her. "We are in the middle of a job here, Waller… the crappy one you sent us earlier tonight…?"

"I just wanted to warn you, Lawton… you'll have company."

"Oh, no…" The man answered in obvious dismay. "No, not _him_, you mean…?"

"Precisely."

"Goddamn, Waller! You said…"

"I _said_ I would buy you time. And I did. _Hours_."

"And what are we supposed to do, Waller?"

"What you do best, Lawton… Run."


	15. Chapter 15

His name was Floyd Lawton, widely known as Deadshot. Many considered him one of the most dangerous people in the world, and he took pride on that; it was for no other reason that he had dedicated a large part of his life to shooting and killing whoever he was told, as long as it didn't involve children and he was paid a large amount of money.

Until Amanda Waller entered his life, that was.

Well, that wasn't fair, actually: he admitted that there was more than just Waller to blame for his ruin, of course. To begin with, there was prison, and that… that, he owed to Batman.

So now Floyd Lawton, the best sniper in the world, stood on LexCorp rooftop, having as company no other people than his "Suicide Squad" companions – if companions was a fitting word, which he was inclined to say it wasn't -, and he believed he was about to face one very suicidal run for the helicopter that was suppose to extract his team. Again, if the Squad could in reality be considered a team…

"What's Waller's word, Lawton?" That was Digger Harkness, no other than Captain Boomerang himself, speaking. He impatiently swayed one of his steel boomerangs in his left hand as he stared at Deadshot in obvious suspicion. "I hope the _bitch_ told you our ride is on the way, yeah?"

"On the way, yes", Lawton agreed as he cocked his wrist guns and walked to the edge of the building. "Except it's not coming _here_, Digger, my friend…"

"What the hell, mate! That was _not_ the plan, that fucking whore is… " The Captain dangerously pointed his boomerang at Deadshot.

"Careful where you aim this damn killing toy, Digger", Lawton spoke just as he raised his own gun at Boomerang's face. "You don't want an _accident_ to happen, do you?"

"You fucking _dog_…"

"Now, boys…!" It was Harley Queen interrupting them, a sassy smile on her lips as she put herself between Lawton and Digger and placed a small metal box on their line of fire. "If we are going to play _rough_ you should tell me at once! I don't wanna be stuck with this boring package and be forced to stay on the sidelines and just cheer… I'm a total sucker for playing till death."

Lawton immediately lowered his weapon:

"Damn it, Harley! Be _careful_ with this! No way Waller is letting us inside that helicopter if we don't bring the package!"

"Then you better give it to King Shark babysit it", the clown-girl said, sternly pointing at the incongruous and monstrous creature that was half man, half shark, now blankly staring at them. Truth was, King Shark wasn't able to do much more than that, unless it involved biting other people's heads off. "I'm so freaking bored that I want to throw it over the roof and…"

"Oh, bugger! Gimme that!" Captain Boomerang brutally took the box from Harley's hands. "Crazy, crazy little girl!"

Deadshot exhaled loudly.

"Let's move, you bunch of idiots… if we don't get away soon, we're gonna be in trouble quicker than King Shark can swallow his lunch…"

"Lunch…?" The huge monster said as they started to walk to the door on east of the building. Behind it, according to Deadshot's maps of the place, they would find an emergency elevator that was known to few people indeed – a personal escape route created by Lex Luthor, that led from the roof straight to the third and hardly accessible underground level, where a net of tunnels could take them outside and several blocks away.

"It's not really lunch time, big guy." Harley spoke in what seemed to be sincere pity. "Unless you want to eat Captain Boom, you're going to have to wait for a few hours…"

Digger seemed offended by Harley's comment:

"Oi! Don't joke around like that, you little wanker… King Shark has eaten more than his share of people in his days, why would you think he wouldn't go for me?"

"Honestly, Cap… You do kind of smell…"

"The hell? I do not…!"

"Shut the fuck up, you all!" They had finally reached the door, and Deadshot wanted his team's full attention. As far as he was concerned, they had gotten too far on their mission to screw things up at the very end. "Let's pay attention now… I'm going to blow up the door and we are going _in_. Now, Lex might have collaborated, but we need to stay focus and be prepared. Luthor is a goddamn bastard and would sell his mother if he hadn't killed her himself, and he probably has a few surprises in there that he conveniently forgot to mention, so…"

"… so we keep sharp and shoot to kill." Captain Boomerang said that while displaying a sly smile. "Ain't that right, mate?"

"For once, Digger, we agree."

Harley raised her hand, much like a school girl who wants to ask her teacher a question.

"Yes, Harley", Deadshot said. "Any questions?"

"Just one…" She pointed at the door. "Any idea why _that_ is there?"

"What the hell 'you talking about, mate…?"

As they looked at what Harley Queen was pointing to them, Deadshot moaned in dismay, and for good reason: not only the lock on the door had already been busted, but it was held open by one very distinctive object – a batarangue.

"The freaking Bats is here…?" Captain Boomerangue whispered. "No one said anything about the Bat being involved, Lawton! It's not how it was supposed to go…!"

Deadshot spoke quietly and through his clenched teeth:

"Quiet, Digger! Let me think for a second!"

"Oh, Floyd, darling… what's there to think about?" Harley laughed softly. "We're in real deep shit, sweetie… let's feast on it!"

"This girl has serious issues…" Digger spoke in a mix of disgust and awe.

But Deadshot had reached a conclusion:

"All right, everyone, Plan B. We can't use this passage. We know at least the Bat is here, and maybe _others_. So we are going to use the cables and…"

"Cables? Not a very good idea, I'm afraid."

That was a feminine, serene voice above them, a sound that was a pleasant breeze and, nevertheless, terrorized their hearts. As they all looked up, they saw her beautiful silhouette hovering above them in the night sky, an idyllic sight that left them speechless, except for King Shark's most obvious remark:

"Wonder Woman…", he mumbled. And then: "Kill!"

With those words King Shark leaped up in an impressive high, reaching Wonder Woman's ankles and pulling her down abruptly. That wasn't completely effective, but at least forced Wonder Woman's attention to her attacker, who was already chewing on one of her bracelets. And Deadshot knew too well how to recognize an opportunity:

"Digger, Harley! Let's go!"

"And leave Nemo?" Harley spoke in a shocked tone.

"King Shark can handle himself, Harley! _We_…" He pointed at the box in Captain Boomerang's hands. "… must handle this."

If Harley and Deadshot had a moment of hesitation about leaving King Shark, Digger had none. He was already running away, covering quickly the distance that separated him from the edge of the building. And he would have reached it, if someone hadn't placed himself in Digger's path:

"Going somewhere, Boomerang, my old friend?"

"Flash", the Captain hissed, staring in anger at the man in red that had come apparently from nowhere – Digger knew better, of course. Flash had come from _somewhere_, all right; he just had done it too fast to be seen by anyone.

"That's 'The' Flash for you, mister!" He finished the phrase while now standing behind Captain Boomerang, already holding the small box the man carried in one of his hands. "Got the package, Wonder Woman!"

Wonder Woman was too busy to answer him, apparently: King Shark was doing a good job in keeping her attention, although now he was already struggling to escape the Amazon's magic lasso. Perhaps all wasn't lost just yet, Deadshot reasoned.

"Hey, Flash!" He called, already pointing both his guns at the speedster's head. "Dodge this, you son of a bitch!"

Lawton released a rain of bullets towards Flash, shooting at the highest speed his weapons allowed him to. _No way_, he thought, _no way even Flash can dodge all these_…

If he was right or wrong about Flash's abilities, Deadshot would never know. His bullets never reached their target, as a massive form, dressed in red and blue, came from the sky and stood between the bullets and the Flash.

"He doesn't have to dodge them if the bullets don't get to him", Superman said, several shots bouncing on his chest like they were water drops.

All hope Floyd Lawton ever had of making out of that situation was now gone – it seemed the whole Justice League, or most of it, at least, had decided to join them. And that was… not so bad.

He would never tell anyone, not even his Squad teammates, but Waller actually _had_ warned him about that possibility even before they left to Metropolis, several hours before. He had worried, of course, and had reasoned that, if the Squad actually had to deal with the majority of members of the Justice League, well, they would most likely _loose_.

"It doesn't matter", Waller had told him. "As long as you make the League believe you had to _invade_ LexCorp."

"Why don't you want them to know Luthor is helping you?"

"That", she said, a devious smile in her features, "is none of your concern, Lawton."

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Somehow, after J'onn had sat with her on the couch, she had fallen asleep.

The alien had held her during the whole time doctors were with Henry, Selina first watching them work in anxious expectation. Then, as their efforts seemed to grow fruitless, she realized she couldn't keep looking at it. She just couldn't; she knew she wouldn't be able to accept if…

If Henry actually died.

J'onn was there, with her – physically and in her mind. A comforting presence. Arms that seemed to hold her together even through her desperate rain of incongruent thoughts. His hand on her shoulder, his soothing voice. Her face hidden on her own palms, sobs, and she trembled out of control. _I want to die_, she remembered thinking, and immediately feeling ashamed for displaying such weakness. But J'onn, he didn't argue that. All he told her was, _I know. Once, I felt the same. Sometimes, still do_.

She looked over to see her son. Her baby. She wanted to hold him, protect him, shelter him. To be one with him again: why, why couldn't she? If only there was a way, a way for her to share his pain… his disease… his agony…

"The best you can do for him", J'onn said, still posing as the old nurse, "is to be strong. Be here for him."

_Fight, Henry_, she silently told her son. She thought she was weak, she was much too frail to endure this: losing her son. She wasn't like Bruce. She wouldn't be able to keep going, like he had when he lost Damian.

"You're wrong", J'onn gravely said. "You _are_ strong. You're here, Selina. You're dealing with it, face to face. And that's even harder than what Bruce is doing right now."

Oh, it was… she had no doubts.

"And it seems your son is just as tough as his parents…"

A heartbeat.

The monitors accused a heartbeat instead of a flatline. A steady beeping sound. Doctors and nurses exhaled in relief; one of them, a young intern, looked at her through the glass and smiled.

_But I can't be glad, J'onn… This is just the beginning, isn't it? If we can't find a cure for what he has…_

"He's alive _now_. Isn't that enough? At least for the moment…"

"What's a moment?"

"A moment, Selina, is all we have. Always."

He was right.

_I wish Bruce was here…_

"You want him to comfort you. I understand. He will be here. Soon."

She wanted him, the father of her child, but also the man… the one man she had ever trusted. Trusted her heart. _Oh, God… I think I love him, J'onn._

He didn't answer her, but she felt it and saw it in his eyes: he pitied her.

"I _shouldn't_ love him, right?"

"It can't be helped, can it?"

_No_, she concluded_, it can't._

"Come, Selina", J'onn asked. "Seat with me. You need to rest."

And rest came, even though she didn't believe it would. No dreams – just a peaceful sleep, guarded by an alien that she now thought of as a friend.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

He watched her lying on the couch, sleeping deeply.

"Don't wake her up", J'onn had told him once he arrived. "Selina is exhausted. Whatever _you_ have been through in the last few hours, I assure you, she has endured a far worse situation."

Bruce didn't doubt that. He was informed about Henry's condition by the doctors, and knew that Selina had witnessed an awful thing. The thought that she had been there, _alone_, watching their son go through a cardiac arrest, experience his near-death…

He kneeled close to her, gently stroking her head and tangling his fingers into her dark hair. "I'm so sorry", he whispered.

He had succeeded, at least in this: the serum they had managed to take from Deadshot's team was supposed to help Henry. LexCorp had developed a bio-weapon, some sort of virus that could destroy cells by attacking their very DNA. A vicious, evil thing, that was experimental and utterly dangerous – and, more importantly, that LexCorp had developed a small amount of antidote to combat. How Henry could have been affected by that secret and yet in development bio-weapon, it was something Bruce was still trying to uncover.

Just minutes before he had approached his baby son's bed, watching the frail little child struggle. He was so small, and had already lost so much weight in a matter of hours. His sensitive, smooth skin was covered in rashes, his arms and legs showing several puncture marks from needles, a catheter in his chest, tubes through his throat to assure that he would keep breathing, breathing and keeping his fragile heart working. He was nothing like the baby boy Bruce had held just twenty-four hours ago or so, the child that laughed and played, the infant that giggled at his father's goofy noises.

Twenty four hours. The morning before. That was when Bruce had been at Selina's place after patrol, arriving just in time to see his son waking up and to help Selina change the baby's diapers. Such a trivial, silly thing. Bruce hadn't even thought about it while doing it, just dutifully assisting Selina and then taking a shower while she breastfeed their son. All seemed so quiet and perfect, so unbelievably perfect. That _perfect_ little boy.

Things were even going well between Selina and himself. Her smile as she saw him coming through the window, the kiss she placed on his lips before he left her for the shower, how she joined him later in bed after putting Henry down for his nap: small signs that they were slowly finding a way to be together. They were trying, just _trying_, but… this time, unlike in any other relationship he had been before, he felt they were actually succeeding.

But that was before. Twenty-four whole hours before. _Now_, much had changed.

Bruce had taken the vial with the antidote and carefully filled a syringe with the thick, golden liquid. A strange thing, and there was little to nothing he knew about it. The only thing he was sure was that the drug was his only hope to fight Henry's disease.

He gradually administered the liquid through the child's catheter, watching his son's immobile body. According to doctors, Henry was now in deep coma, and it was unlikely that he would ever wake up. In fact, one of doctors had already spoken to him about donating the child's corneas. And although he understood _why_ the man had talked to him about it, he couldn't help but feel insulted – _my son is not dead!_, he wanted to yell.

But he didn't yell. Now wasn't the moment for anger, or fury. Now, it was a moment to hope. And Bruce decided that he would allow himself that:

"Please, Henry", he spoke softly, "wake up."


	16. Chapter 16

When Colonel Steve Trevor entered the Justice League's meeting room, all he could think of was that he had been the League's government representative for five years, and not once he had been invited to the Watchtower.

"Wow!" Next to him, Oliver Queen, the Green Arrow, whistled in awe. There was a tone of mockery, as well as sincere wonder in the gesture. "Damn it, Steve! This is unbelievable…! How come the JLA doesn't have a space base also?"

"We don't want people thinking we are _above_ anyone, Arrow… the JLA is supposed to be a more… down to earth kind of super-team."

"I trust you see the incoherence in what you just said."

Trevor looked around the room, still occupied by just him and Arrow. Other then themselves, there was a large round table and tall chairs around it, making Steve thing that not people, but perhaps giants would be more suitable to sit on those chairs. One of the walls had several monitors, but they were all off, showing nothing but the reflex of that very room and what was in it. And, besides the door Trevor had just came through, straight from the teleport device they used, there was yet another passage – a double sliding door, which would probably lead to the rest of the facility.

"We had access to two rooms, and that was it", Queen commented. "I don't see a lot of trust here, Steve."

"Wait till we finish our business before passing judgment, Arrow." Steve's tone was harsh, but, privately, he was thinking the same.

"If I needed to use the bathroom, do you think they would allow?"

"Quiet", Trevor urged, his eyes already on the door that opened to reveal Wonder Woman, Superman and Aquaman entering the room.

"Hello." Superman was the first to speak, his pleasant, deep voice greeting them in what seemed to be honest satisfaction. However, both Green Arrow and the Colonel answered only by brief head nods and quiet hellos.

If that caused any discomfort, none of the Justice League members showed it; they all just took seats around the table and invited Trevor and Arrow to do the same, with Diana getting in charge of the conversation:

"I'm glad you could come, Steve", she said. Or _sang_. To Trevor's ears, it always sounded like Diana was singing a lovely music, and not simply speaking. "We think this is the safest place to have a… _private _conversation."

"No problem", Steve quickly answered.

"Your help was… crucial. Thanks to you, we were able to get what we needed."

There was hesitation in her words, and Trevor knew why. He immediately explained:

"Green Arrow here is aware of everything. He knows about Selina's child and what happened to him, as well as who's the kid's father… He's trying to help in any way he can, and we can trust him."

Aquaman's gaze denounced his suspicions:

"That leads to a question I have been wishing to propose… how much do _you_ know, Colonel?"

Steve frowned:

"I think it's safe to say that I know _plenty_, Aquaman. I worked with the League for years…"

"You were a glorified messenger, Colonel", were the sea king's harsh words.

Against his most deep wish, Trevor couldn't help but frown and give a slight sign of how much Aquaman's words bothered him. Diana noticed it, no doubt, and intervened at once:

"We just want to be safe, Steve. There's a lot at stake here, and we must be careful about what we reveal."

In a disconcerting attitude, Green Arrow chuckled.

"Something you find amusing, archer?" It was Aquaman's turn to frown, obviously upset by Oliver's attitude.

"A bunch of things, actually", Queen candidly stated. "But now, in particular, it's this little 'thing' between you guys."

As all around the table seemed puzzled, Arrow sighed loudly and explained:

"Because Steve worked with you guys once upon a time, and you treated him like shit, and blah-blah-blah…"

Superman immediately spoke, clearly shocked by Arrow's words:

"We didn't treat him like… well…"

"Actually, Superman", Trevor interrupted, "you did."

"Steve…" What was in Wonder Woman's eyes could be pity, could be exhaustion, maybe both.

"C'mon, Diana… you know it's true. Most of you acted like I was an annoyance, the doorman that kept the unpleasant business out of your space club."

"We thought of you as _friend_, Steve."

"Maybe _you_ did. But I guess you were the only one", the Colonel emphasized, then gazing around the table to confirm his words in Superman's and Aquaman's faces.

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence around the table, broken by Aquaman's voice:

"If we are done talking about why Trevor resent us, can we, please, get to the reason why we invited him over?" He glanced at Green Arrow in distrust. "And his _friend_, apparently."

"Hey", Oliver shrugged, "I do what I can for the big guy feel _loved_."

Steve exhaled loudly, then reaching for a small tablet he kept in one of his jacket's inside pockets. He spent a few seconds opening files and reading them before finally speaking:

"Diana told me earlier that you needed me to check a few things, and so I did it…"

"Batman had asked us to." Superman quickly added.

"Yeah, I figured that", Trevor agreed. "Apparently, he wanted us to gather all the information we could about the pediatrician Henry went to before getting sick, as well as about the staff members, other patients, and so on."

All around the table stared at the Colonel in expectation as he spoke:

"I did as Diana asked me, and found nothing extraordinary, except for this…" He turned the tablet so all could look at the screen, which now showed the picture of a woman in her mid-forties. "This is Alice Ryder. Pediatric nurse, single, 46 years-old. Nothing suspicious about her."

"Then why the hell are we looking at her picture?" Aquaman seemed slightly impatient.

"Because, Aquaman, Alice was _killed_ yesterday, just after Henry Kyle was admitted to Gotham's General Hospital. And not just murdered: she had her throat cut while soundly asleep in her bed, no signs that someone forcefully broke-in, nothing stolen, not a single thing out of place."

"A professional's work", Superman said, obviously intrigued.

"That's right", Steve agreed. "And not just that. Nurse Ryder was also the one that administered Henry's vaccine shot the very day he got sick."

"You think she put something in that shot?" Aquaman frowned, his eyes darting in anger as he stared at the woman's picture and then at Colonel Trevor.

"Problem is, Henry was never vaccinated: inventory showed the same number of ampoules the office had the day before."

"Dear God…" Superman moaned.

"Although at least one syringe was used, and guess what?"

No one risked a guess, and Steve proceeded:

"This syringe was not found. It wasn't discarded with the rest of the disposable medical material of the day, nor was it found in Alice Ryder's apartment. However…"

He took the tablet once again, opening other files as he spoke:

"Just a few hours before getting killed, Nurse Ryder mailed a small package by express delivery."

"And would you know where she mailed it to?" Diana asked.

"To a PO box in Gotham City, located in the international airport."

Again he showed them a picture in his tablet: it was from a person wearing a heavy coat, a hat and sunglasses, making it impossible to recognize who he was.

"Oh, that's helpful", Green Arrow sarcastically commented.

"I have to agree with the archer", Aquaman said. "There's no way of actually identifying that man."

"Well", Steve pondered, "we used cameras all over the airport and its parking areas and we got another shot."

He lightly touched the screen, changing the image to another picture, this one showing the man getting to the train station. He was still wearing the hat, sunglasses, coat; he also seemed to be checking his watch.

"I don't understand", Diana complained. "It's the same, we can't…"

"Ah!" Steve interrupted her by raising his hand, then showing them what seemed to be the same image, except that the focus was a zoom that showed the man's wrist and his watch. "Here", he said, outlining something on the skin of the man's wrists.

"What are we looking at?" Aquaman was intrigued, leaning forward to have a closer look.

"It's a tattoo. Part of it, actually."

"And that _means_ something?" Diana was clearly anxious for answers.

"We searched our data base." Steve explained, and his tone was now grave. "This particular place in the body, and studying the pattern of what we can see… We identified the tattoo, and it's some sort of symbol, something to show the man's rank in a hierarchy. We believe this man in part of a group."

"Well", it was Green Arrow who urged him to proceed. "What group? Did you find out?"

"Oh, yes." Trevor touched the screen once again, now displaying in his tablet the picture of a man who was immediately recognized by all around the table. "The League of Assassins of Ra's Al Ghul."

XXXXXXXXX

"Honestly", the doctor was telling Bruce and Selina as they stood just outside Henry's room, "it's quite puzzling. Whatever it was that made him sick, it seems to be on remission."

Selina exchanged a brief glance with Bruce, than asking:

"That's… good news, right? I mean, he's getting better…"

"In a way", the doctor quickly interrupted her. "Henry's immune system is beating the infection, but his body suffered too much damage."

Unconsciously, Selina's hand searched for Bruce's, closing around his fingers.

"What kind of damage are we talking about?" Bruce asked sternly.

"It's hard to say at this point", was the doctor's sincere answer. "We'll need time to say it with precision. Right now, we are concerned about his kidneys and his heart. There's also a brain swelling that we should monitor carefully…"

"Oh, God…" Selina allowed those words escape in a soft, low groan.

Bruce said nothing, his eyes going from the doctor ahead of him to the glass wall that separated them from his son, watching Henry quietly lying on the bed. It was hard to believe they were talking about him, about his baby son; it was still incredibly difficult for him to accept that all those things, all those horrible things could be happening to them.

But then again, shouldn't he be used to horrible things happening in his life?

He felt the doctor's hand on his shoulder, the man displaying a reasonably compassionated expression.

"I wish I had better news."

Selina let go of Bruce's hand to cross her arms over her chest, her face displaying not sadness, but anger. Still, she spoke politely:

"Thank you, Dr. Lark. I appreciate your efforts."

"You can count on me, Ms. Kyle", the man answered, perhaps too enthusiastically – Bruce had already noticed how this doctor would look at Selina: in a very unprofessional way, he believed. Then again, a doctor is just a man, like any other, and Selina was a gorgeous woman; if that earned Henry extra attention, Bruce would be fine with it.

For now.

"Thank you, doctor", Bruce added himself. Like Selina, he too felt something bitter in his mouth, a foul taste that much reminded him of the taste of failure. For some reason, he was expecting a miracle, even if it was unreasonable for him to do so. He knew it, he knew it when he injected Henry with that strange liquid: there were no guarantees. His son wouldn't be cured of all the damage the disease had already caused, of course not. Bruce _knew_ that; Selina must have known also. Why were they so disappointed?

Although, the answer was obvious, and he knew it: it was because that little boy was his son. His _son_. There was nothing rational about the way he felt for that child, nothing rational about his hope as a _father_. And that was precisely what he was at that moment, nothing but this: a father. Suffering for his son. Hoping for the best, even if against all odds.

"Bruce", Selina called him. Dr. Lark had just left, but they still stood outside the room, both now watching Henry through the glass. It was like they could keep all the bad news outside if they didn't enter that room, and so, there they remained. Looking at their son from a distance, unable to accept a harsh, painful reality.

"He's going to be okay", Bruce whispered, even though he knew he shouldn't have. He sounded like a fool. Like a damn liar.

"Don't say that", Selina censured him.

"Don't give up, Selina. Don't give up on him."

She said nothing to that, her eyes still focused on their son, her face showing a harsh, severe expression. Lips tightly pressed together, her chin pointing up, eyebrows slightly frowned, her complexion pale.

After a few moments, she spoke – and now her voice was a cold, piercing sound:

"Did they have an answer already?"

Bruce knew whom she was talking about: the members of the Justice League. He had briefly narrated how they had managed to get their hands on the antidote, and also told her the other heroes where following a few leads that could help find out who had done that to Henry. She had seemed only slightly interested then, but now…

"Not yet", he told her. Though that wasn't completely true. He had asked Alfred to keep in touch with the League, since he didn't want to be distracted from Henry… at least until later that night. In a few hours he planned to talk to Alfred and find out what had been discovered.

"If they found him… the person that did this to him…"

She halted mid-sentence, biting her lower lip to the point Bruce thought she would hurt herself.

"I _will_ find out, Selina", he promised. "Whoever did this, he or she is going to pay…"

"But that's the thing, Bruce… if you get to them first, they _won't_ pay."

"Of course they will. I'll make sure…"

She turned to him and looked into his eyes, her own emerald gaze full of rage:

"They will _die_ for this, Bruce. Die."

He stared at her in silence. There wasn't much he could say: he understood. He knew where she was coming from, and he knew that what she felt… wasn't wrong. It wasn't _right_, but not wrong either.

"What we are going through right now, Selina…"

"No, Bruce. No. This is not something that I'm feeling _now_, and that will eventually go away. It won't."

"We shouldn't discuss this now", he gravely said.

"We shouldn't. Maybe", she said while turning her attention back to her son, a palpable coldness in her voice, "we shouldn't discuss this at all."


	17. Chapter 17

Amanda Waller was proud of many things in her career: how she had beaten her underprivileged childhood and managed to do well in school; how she had conquered a full college scholarship and went to an Ivy League school, and worked part time during her four years there; how she had been recruited by the CIA, and then kept getting promotion after promotion, running over anyone that stood in her way, often managing to surpass the many disadvantages she discovered were in her way – the fact she was a woman, or the color of her skin, or her lack of personal connections. She had discovered, early in her life, that things _needed_ to be conquered. No one would _give_ her anything; and, to make things harder, there was this: not only she wouldn't get any free rides, but there were lots of people that _would_ get free rides. People that were _born _with things. Gifts, given to them by God, or whichever forces that were in charge of this little thing people called destiny.

Amanda, however, didn't believe in destiny. She didn't believe in getting things for free, or without the deserved effort. Anyone that _did_ get anything that way… well, it wasn't worth much in her book.

And that was why she had one hell of a big problem with the super-powered morons in their little space-club up there.

It wasn't like she _hated_ them, or didn't understand that, at some level, they were necessary. That much she would give them: now, for better or worse, the world _needed_ a super-team. Or several. Because the world was goddamned mess, with all kinds of idiots and criminals wearing super-powers like cheap shirts. Everyone seemed to have one of those, unfortunately. Rarely the people that could use them well, though.

Still, Waller didn't trust super-powered beings. Or people who hang out with them – although, in a way, _she_ was one of the people that was now surrounded by meta-humans all the time. Her _job_ made it necessary. Because the only way to protect against the so called heroes or villains was… well, using other "heroes" and "villains".

That was why she loved Belle Reve. First, it was a place where she could lock up as many nut-jobs with powers as she wanted, and make them pay for whatever stupid, crazy atrocity they had done. Second, but not least, because it was the place that provided her the recruits for her Task Force X – in other words, the Suicide Squad. And oh, boy, did she love her little Squad…

"I can't complain Lawton." She was in her Belle Reve office, looking at a cuffed and unmasked Deadshot that sat on a chair across her desk. "That was a job well done."

"You're kidding me, right?" Floyd had two black eyes, four broken finger, and one very nasty cut on his lower lip, all courtesy of Batman, apparently. Gotham's knight had been one pissed superhero when he discovered the Squad was in possession of the antidote that could help his kid.

"I certainly am not", Waller denied. "I told you, your primary mission was to make sure no one suspected we were _given_ that ampoule."

"That one cost me a couple teeth, Waller. I want them back."

"And you shall have them, Floyd."

"Ain't that generous of you?" The sarcasm was obvious.

"I'm praising you for a job well done, Lawton."

"Yeah. I'm sorry if I don't get too excited about it… the way I see it, it only makes you more inclined to give me another one of those."

"That's inevitable, Lawton." She smiled. "When that judge gave you eight life sentences for your crimes, he gave me possession of your life for… well, as long as I want. And then some."

Deadshot didn't answer; he didn't have to. Waller knew too well what was going through his mind.

"You can't kill me, Floyd. Not now, not ever."

He nodded.

"Yeah. We'll see about that, boss… we'll see."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

As Bruce entered the cave, Alfred greeted him with the same question he had been asking every time they had spoken to each other in the last couple days:

"How's young Master Henry doing, sir?"

And he answered the same way he had before:

"I don't know, Alfred."

That meant a lot more than the untrained eye could see; for anyone that knew him, and Alfred surely was that person, the answer gave all the information needed: that Henry was still sick, and that Bruce hadn't discovered another way to help him.

Though _sick_ wasn't exactly the case. The alien disease that attacked him had subsided, all but gone. Still, the baby had shown trouble keeping a steady heartbeat – the word _transplant _had already been used -, and there was no telling of how much damage had been caused to his brain. At that very moment, Henry was in a coma, and Bruce agonized over the idea that he might never again see his son awaken.

And Alfred knew better than to ask about it; or _should_ have known.

"Leslie Thompkins was at the hospital, and she told me they want to schedule an M.R.I…."

"Alfred."

"Yes, Sir?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

The butler returned that remark with a sharp, resentful glance that transfigured his typically placid features. Noticing that, Bruce almost regretted his harsh words – _almost_.

"I understand you can't help your unkindness at this moment, Sir… but remember: isolate yourself is _not_ the answer. You can't deal with all this alone."

"Alfred…"

"Especially considering all Colonel Trevor uncovered about the possible identity of Henry's attacker."

"No, Alfred", Bruce ruthlessly told the butler. "Actually, it's precisely because of what Trevor found out that I _must_ deal with it by myself. Deal with _him_."

"You're wrong."

The straightforward phrase came not from Alfred, but from deeper inside the cave. And although Bruce wasn't _expecting_ company, that was nothing surprising about that person's presence there.

"Nightwing", he said, skipping any kind of usual greetings.

"Yeah, great to see you too, Bruce…"

Despite his irony, Nightwing, also known as Richard Grayson, former Robin, displayed a kind smile for his mentor.

"Alfred told you."

"Please, Bruce… he didn't have to. I can log into the computer."

"You mean you _hacked_ into the database…"

"You taught me well."

He didn't develop the topic; walking past Nightwing, Bruce went down the stairs to the lower platform, where his armory was. Without a word, he collected a few items and started to prepare his belt.

"You're going after Ra's", Dick affirmed.

"Of course."

"By yourself, I mean. That's your plan…?"

Bruce placed down the belt and turned to face his former partner:

"I have to do this, Dick." His tone was now less permeated by anger. "Ra's is no ordinary adversary, and he might be in possession of an alien bio-weapon…"

"Oh, c'mon, Bruce… it's _me_ you're talking to… and you're not going to fool me with all your 'rational arguments' crap."

"I'm _not_ trying to…"

"Yes, you are!" For the first time since the conversation begun, Nightwing seemed irritated himself. "I _know_ what you're doing! You're trying to convince us and, what's worst, _yourself_, that you have to take care of everything alone." He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly before finally concluding his speech: "_Again_."

"You don't understand. Ra's is one very dangerous man, and there's no way of predicting what he would do if he knew he was being attacked. I can be more _subtle_…"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah… you could get to him without attracting attention, and you also could get more information before anyone even realizing you were there…"

"Precisely."

"Also, Ra's is Damian's grandfather _and_ the only individual in the world that possesses means to bring people back to life and cure all kinds of diseases with his Lazarus' Pits, which only _he_ knows how to locate and use."

Bruce merely glanced at Nightwing in silence and returned to his preparations.

"You're not even going to deny it?! My God, Bruce…"

"Look, if Ra's Al Ghul is in fact responsible for what happened to Henry, it's a very unusual move from him. He's not one to do something and not take credit for it immediately…"

"I don't know, Bruce, he is kind of a crazy old man who often tried to dominate the world! It's not like he's easily predictable, or even _rational_. By the way, it's one of the perks that the lovely Lazarus's Pit can offer: insanity, megalomania, egocentrism… oh, wait, where did I see that before… or should I say it, right now?"

"Very funny", Bruce groaned.

"The thing is, Bruce, if you are contemplating the idea of being inconsiderate and selfish, and acting behind the backs of everyone that has helped with Henry's situation so far, okay, go ahead. It's unfortunate, but I don't think people would actually be _surprised_." Dick walked around the table Bruce worked on his belt and placed himself in front of his mentor. "Though I do want you to promise me this, Bruce: that you're _not_, under any circumstances, going to consider Ra's offer to use the Pit, if it ever comes to that. Not for Henry, and most _certainly_ not for Damian."

Nightwing's last words made Bruce immediately raise his eyes from his work and coldly stare at Dick:

"If you in any way believe, even for a second, that I would do such a thing, then you don't know me at all."

There was no immediate answer from the younger crime fighter; Nightwing merely watched as Bruce roughly finished his work, and then left the armory to change into his uniform. After a moment, Dick followed him:

"You lost a child, and then, a year later, your baby son is seriously ill – I would think it's only natural that you would consider the Pit as an option."

"You're _wrong_, Dick." He turned to face Nightwing before entering the room. "I know better than to risk any of my children like this."

"So", Nightwing austerely said, "you would rather see Henry _dead_ than risk the Pit?"

"He's not going to die."

"We all hope so", Dick quickly declared. "But I honestly fear that you will again be forced over the edge if…"

Bruce raised his hand:

"I've lost Jason. I've lost Damian. I can't, and I _will not_ lose Henry." He stared at Nightwing in silence for a few seconds, than taking a deep breath and speaking in more collected tone. "But if things go wrong… so wrong that…"

He seemed to struggle against something, gathering will to finish what he wanted to say without letting his voice falter. Then:

"Look. I'm not _stupid_, Dick. I know perfectly well what's at stake, and I understand… I _know_ things don't look good for Henry. But I have to _hope_. I have to _believe_ he will be okay."

"I… I know, Bruce… I never meant to…"

"Listen", he urged. "As much as a father could be tempted to bring his child back to life again, no matter the cost, I know that the Pit's offer for life comes with a price. A price that destroyed Ra's' sanity, as well as Talia's. I would never risk my child like that. I _know_, I just know it's not worth it – because whoever would come out of that Pit, well, it wouldn't be my son."

"I know, Bruce." Dick gravely agreed. Still, he insisted. "But it was different, then; with Jason, and Damian."

"Different how?"

"Well", Nightwing sighed, never disguising the dismay in his voice. "Because Selina was never involved before."

XXXXXXXXX

Selina stroke her son's head, the feel of his soft dark hair on her fingertips. He laid perfectly still, that small creature, a tube going down his trachea, a catheter going into the soft skin of his chest. His skin was smooth, but cold; not the warmness that she had grown accustomed to. At her touch, her baby did not respond. He merely remained: what seemed to be but the most perfect replica of what once was her son.

Bruce wasn't there. He was _gone_. To deal with business; to deal with whomever had done that to their child. That person, the one he had not named, the monster Bruce had refused to reveal to her.

Not that she had asked; she couldn't. He wouldn't tell her, she knew, and she didn't want him to lie. Things were already going from bad to worse in her life – why ruin the one thing she still had?

Not that it wouldn't be ruined anyway; because Bruce would never, _never_ forgive her.

The thing was, if she didn't forced justice with her own two hands against the one that had hurt her son… she would never forgive herself.

Bruce couldn't understand; it wasn't the same for him. He loved Henry, he loved him so much, he was crazy about that little boy… but not like _her_. It wasn't a matter of _how much_ love she felt for her son, compared to Bruce; it was just that Henry was _all_ she had. All she had _ever_ had.

Bruce had other things in his life. Other _people_. Friends – family, even.

Selina had none of it. The only kind of people that were a constant in her life was _enemies_. People trying to kill her. People that _hated_ her.

She had never had someone that _loved_ her before. Not like Henry: her little boy loved her more than anything; he _needed_ her. And she needed him. Like she never thought she would or even could need someone.

"I'm so sorry, baby boy", she whispered.

She was. Very sorry.

Somehow, even though she was Catwoman – _the_ Catwoman -, she had not been able to protect her son. Even though that child was Batman's child. Despite their efforts, their skills, their security systems, their constant paranoia… still, they had failed. _She_ had failed.

There was a cruel soul in this Earth, perhaps more than one, that had decided to torture and kill a child. A _baby_. In a very specific and mean way. Someone that wanted to bring pain to Henry and his parents – mainly his parents, no doubt. And that person, or people, was out there. Walking, talking, eating, fucking, working… doing whatever he wanted, the way he wanted, and smiling at the thought that Selina now had to look at her son dying.

And that just couldn't be.

Bruce wouldn't tell her. He wouldn't. He was afraid that she might not be thinking right, and that she would do something she would regret. But the truth was, she could never regret killing the person that killed her son. That harmed her child in a very intentional and deliberate way. That was going to take from her the single thing she had ever loved and valued more than her own life.

There was no mistake there: she needed do it. With her own two hands.

And, God forbid, anyone that stood between her and that would pay the price.


End file.
